At the fourth door the girl stopped.  “Thank you so much for coming,” she said.  “Walk right in,” and throwing open the door she fairly shoved the visitor inside.

From out the semi-darkness, Ben now found himself in a well-lighted room, and the change made him blink about him.  Instead of the motherly old lady in a frilled cap, whom he had expected to see, he found himself in the company of a half-dozen coatless young men and under-dressed women, lounging in questionable attitudes on chairs and sofas.  At his advent they all looked up.  A sallow youth who had been operating the piano turned in his seat and the music stopped.  Not yet realizing the trick that had been played upon him, Ben turned to look for his guide; but she was nowhere in sight, and the door was closed.  His eyes shifted back and met a circle of amused faces, while a burst of mocking laughter broke upon his ears.

Then for the first time he understood, and his face went white with anger.  Without a word he started to leave the room.  But one of the women was already at his side, her detaining hand upon his sleeve.  “No, no, honey!” she said, insinuatingly.  “We’re all good fellows!  Stay awhile!”

Ben shook her off roughly.  Her very touch was contaminating.  But one of the men had had time to get between him and the door; a sarcastic smile was upon his face as he blocked the way.

“I guess it’s on you, old man!” he bantered.  “About a half-dozen quarts will do for a starter!” He nodded to a pudgy old woman who was watching interestedly from the background.  “You heard the gent’s order, mother!  Beer, and in a hurry!  He looks dry and hot.”

Again a gale of laughter broke forth; but Ben took no notice.  He made one step forward, until he was within arm’s reach of the humorist.

“Step out of my way, please,” he said evenly.

Had the man been alone he would have complied, and quickly.  No human being with eyes and intelligence could have misread the warning on Ben Blair’s countenance.  He started to move, when the girl who had first come forward turned the tide.

“Aw, Charley!” she goaded.  “Is that all the nerve you’ve got!” and she laughed ironically.

Instantly the man’s face reddened, and he fell back into his first position.

“Sorry I can’t oblige you, pal,” he said, “but you see it’s agin de house.  Us blokes has got—­”

The sentence was never completed.  Ben’s fist shot out and caught the speaker fair on the point of his jaw, and he collapsed in his tracks.  For a second no one in the room stirred; then before Ben could open the door, the other men were upon him.  The women fled screaming to the farthest corner of the room, where they huddled together like sheep.  Returning with the tray, the old woman realized an only too familiar condition.

“Gentlemen!” she pleaded.  “Gentlemen!”