The cloth was spread for supper and shone white under the drop lamp.  In the far corner of the room Titania was struggling in the grasp of a bearded man whom Aubrey instantly recognized as the chef.  On the near side of the table, holding a revolver levelled at the girl, stood Weintraub.  His back was toward the door.  Aubrey could see the druggist’s sullen jaw crease and shake with anger.

Two strides took him into the room.  He jammed the muzzle of his pistol against the oily cheek.  “Drop it!” he said hoarsely.  “You Hun!” With his left hand he seized the man’s shirt collar and drew it tight against the throat.  In his tremor of rage and excitement his arms felt curiously weak, and his first thought was how impossible it would be to strangle that swinish neck.

For an instant there was a breathless tableau.  The bearded man still had his hands on Titania’s shoulders.  She, very pale but with brilliant eyes, gazed at Aubrey in unbelieving amazement.  Weintraub stood quite motionless with both hands on the dining table, as though thinking.  He felt the cold bruise of metal against the hollow of his cheek.  Slowly he opened his right hand and his revolver fell on the linen cloth.  Then Roger burst into the room.

Titania wrenched herself away from the chef.

“I wouldn’t give them the suitcase!” she cried.

Aubrey kept his pistol pinned against Weintraub’s face. 
With his left hand he picked up the druggist’s revolver. 
Roger was about to seize the chef, who was standing uncertainly on
the other side of the table.

“Here,” said Aubrey, “take this gun.  Cover this fellow and leave that one to me.  I’ve got a score to settle with him.”

The chef made a movement as though to jump through the window behind him, but Aubrey flung himself upon him.  He hit the man square on the nose and felt a delicious throb of satisfaction as the rubbery flesh flattened beneath his knuckles.  He seized the man’s hairy throat and sank his fingers into it.  The other tried to snatch the bread knife on the table, but was too late.  He fell to the floor, and Aubrey throttled him savagely.

“You blasted Hun,” he grunted.  “Go wrestling with girls, will you?”

Titania ran from the room, through the pantry.

Roger was holding Weintraub’s revolver in front of the German’s face.

“Look here,” he said, “what does this mean?”

“It’s all a mistake,” said the druggist suavely, though his eyes slid uneasily to and fro.  “I just came in to get some books I left here earlier in the afternoon.”

“With a revolver, eh?” said Roger.  “Speak up, Hindenburg, what’s the big idea?”

“It’s not my revolver,” said Weintraub.  “It’s Metzger’s.”

“Where’s this suitcase of yours?” said Roger.  “We’re going to have a look at it.”

“It’s all a stupid mistake,” said Weintraub.  “I left a suitcase of old books here for Metzger, because I expected to go out of town this afternoon.  He called for it, and your young woman wouldn’t give it to him.  He came to me, and I came down here to tell her it was all right.”