Jed looked down at his wriggling captive.  “He’s—­he’s—­” he stammered.  “Well, you see, Major, he . . .  Hum . . . well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me!  What on earth—­ Mrs. Armstrong, will you tell me?”

She looked at him appealingly, pitifully, but she shook her head.

“I—­I can’t,” she said.

He looked from one to the other.  Then, with a shrug, he turned to the door.

“Pardon me for interrupting,” he observed.  “Good afternoon.”

It was Ruth who detained him.  “Oh, please!” she cried, involuntarily.  He turned again.

“You wish me to stay?” he asked.

“Oh—­oh, I don’t know.  I—­”

She had not finished the sentence; she was falteringly trying to finish it when Mr. Babbitt took the center of the stage.  Once more he managed to free himself from Jed’s grip and this time he darted across the shop and put the workbench between himself and his enemy.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” he screamed.  “I’ve found out some things they don’t want anybody to know, that’s what.  I’ve found out what sort of folks they are, she and her brother.  He’s a common—­ Let go of me!  By—­”

The scream ended in another mumble.  Jed had swarmed over the bench and once more pinned him fast.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Major,” he panted.  “I—­I can’t help it.  This feller’s got what ailed the parrot—­he talks too darn much.  He’s got to stop!  He’s got to!”

But Grover was paying little attention.  He was looking at Ruth.

“Mrs. Armstrong,” he asked, “has he been saying—­saying things he should not say about you?  Is that the trouble?”

She answered without returning his look.

“Yes,” she said, almost in a whisper.  “About me and—­and my—­ Yes, that was it.”

The Major’s eyes flashed.  “Let go of him, Jed,” he commanded.  Jed hesitated.

“If I do he’ll blow up again,” he said.

“Let go of him.”

Jed let go.  Phineas caught his breath and opened his mouth.  Major Grover stepped in front of him and leveled a forefinger straight at the crimson Babbitt nose.

“Stop!” he ordered, sharply.

“Stop?  What right have you got to tell me to stop?  By—­”

“Stop!  Listen to me.  I don’t know what you’ve been saying about this lady—­”

“I ain’t been saying anything, except what I know, and that is that—­”

“Stop!  And I don’t care.  But I know about you, sir, because it is my business to know.  The Government has had its eye on you for some time and it has asked me to look into your record.  I have looked into it.  You are not a very dangerous person, Mr. Babbitt, but that is because of your lack of ability to harm, not because of any good will on your part toward the United States.  You have done all the harm you could, you have talked sedition, you’ve written and talked against the draft, you have corresponded with German agents in Boston and New York.”