Mary felt as if she could breathe again.
"Thank Heaven, it's over!" she said.
Pete looked at her pityingly.
"It's just begun," he explained patiently. "That was only the first round. There may be a dozen or fifteen, or twenty, or Lord knows how many yet before they finish it. It won't end till one of 'em goes to sleep."
"To sleep? How can any man fall asleep when somebody is pounding him all over the head and body?"
"Wait and see," answered Pete with a grin.
But Mary was not minded to wait and see. All that filled her mind was resentment and horror that Aunt Caroline's library should have been loaned by her unredeemed nephew for such an awful purpose. She had a new account to square with William Marshall. She did not intend to tell Aunt Caroline; she would spare that shock to her benefactress. She phrased a little silent prayer of thanks because Aunt Caroline was safely removed from the scene of blood and violence. But there would be no softening of the blow when she came to deal with Bill.
"I'm going down to stop it," she said suddenly.
Pete seized her arm and held it.
"You can't think of it!" he said, in a shocked whisper. "You'd only be insulted and laughed at. And besides——"