“Oh, I don’t know, Spike.  Anyway, we’ll see what can be done—­outside!  After you, Mr. Flowers!  Pray go first, Mr. Flowers!  A fellow who would attack a man sitting down isn’t to be trusted behind one—­so, after you, Mr. Flowers.  Oh, we’ll wait until you can use your arm, but we’ll wait outside.  Miss Chesterton’s flat is no place for your sort, so—­out with you, and quick—­d’ye hear?”

M’Ginnis opened his lips to retort, but passion choked him, and snarling unintelligibly, he turned and strode out upon the landing.  As they stood fronting each other, very silent and grim and menacing, running feet were heard ascending the stairs, and a slender boy appeared, who, perceiving M’Ginnis, panted out: 

“Say, Bud, O’Rourke’s been pinched by d’ cops!  He wants ye t’ skin over an’ fix it up—­”

“O’Rourke pinched?” growled M’Ginnis.  “Say you, Larry, what yer givin’ me?”

“S’ right, Bud, dere’s a noo captain on d’ precinct, an’ he’s pinched O’Rourke.  ‘N’ say, Bud, d’ game’s all balled up; d’ push is all up in d’ air.  ‘N’ say, O’Rourke’s crazy an’ can’t do nothin’, so he sent me t’ fetch ye.  You’re d’ only one as can fix d’ police, so come on right now before d’ whole show’s busted up.”  During this breathless speech the narrowed eyes of M’Ginnis never left Ravenslee’s pale, placid face, and in the persistence of this ferocious glare was something animal-like.

“Say, you—­Mr. Butt-in!” said he, “I ain’t through wid you—­not by a whole lot I ain’t.  Oh, I’ll get ye yet, an’ I’ll get ye good!  There won’t be nothin’ left for nobody else when I’m through wid you.  Savvy this—­there ain’t nobody ever goin’ t’ queer me with Hermy Chesterton.  Oh, I’ll get ye good, an’ I’ll get ye—­soon!”

So saying, Bud M’Ginnis turned, and went slowly and unwillingly down the stair.

“Gee, but I’m glad he’s gone!” said Spike, as he closed the door.  “Gee, but I’m—­glad!” and he drew a deep breath.

“So am I!” said Ravenslee, sinking into the armchair, “but there’s always to-morrow, isn’t there?”

But instead of replying, Spike stood to stare on Ravenslee with eyes of admiring awe.

“I guess you know how t’ handle y’ self, Geoff,” said he.

“I used to think I could, once upon a time,” answered Ravenslee, stooping to recover his pipe.

“That sure was some wallop you handed him!”

“’T was fair, I thank you, comrade!”

“I shall be awful sorry to have you leave me, Geoff.”

“Leave you?”

“Well, you heard what he said?”

“Yes, I heard.”

“An’ you know what he meant?”

“I can guess.”

“You’d best skin out o’ Mulligan’s first thing to-morrow.”

“What for?”

“Bud says you must, an’ he’ll make you, worse luck!”

“Oh, how?”

“Well,” said Spike in low, troubled tones, “he’ll sic d’ gang on to you if you don’t make your get-away while you can—­”