Without a word the Italian turned and left the saloon.
Dick had been prepared to leap through the window to Arlington’s protection in case it was necessary, and he was relieved when the affair terminated in this manner. At the same time, he felt that Chester had made a desperate and bitter enemy in Tony.
When the Italian was gone Arlington sat down at the table and once more ordered drinks.
“I will have that fellow discharged,” he declared.
“If you don’t,” said Moran, “the chances are that he will stick a knife between your shoulders some dark night.”
“Oh, I am not afraid of the dog!” averred Chet. “I am afraid of no one! The man doesn’t live that I am afraid to face!”
“How about Dick Merriwell?” inquired Moran.
“Why, I don’t give a rap for him! He’s a common bruiser, and that’s why I don’t fight with him! I paid you, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what are you kicking for? You have no kick coming. Drink up.”