Before he knew what had happened, she gripped him by his coat with both hands.
“You are not going to do anything of the kind, Mr. ‘Take A Chance’ Anderson,” she said between her teeth, and her voice trembled with passion. “I hated him once, but that was before I knew him. I would sooner see you dead as the other man died than that you should bring him more trouble.”
“Let me go,” said Timothy, trying to press loose her hands.
“You’ll leave this house and forget that you were ever here. Oh, you fool, you fool!”
He had wrenched himself clear of her and flung her backward.
“I have a few words to say to your friend,” he said, “and I think you’d better stay here whilst I’m saying them. I hate having family quarrels in public, anyway.”
He had not heard the door open behind him and it was the “swish” of the loaded cane which warned him. It did not strike him fair on the head, as was intended, but caught him a glancing blow and he fell on his knees, turning his face to his attacker. He knew it was Brown even before the blow fell.
“Shall I settle him?” said a voice as the stick went up again.
“No, no!” cried the woman, “for God’s sake, no!”
It was at that moment that Timothy low-tackled his assailant. Brown tried to strike, but he was too late and went crashing to the floor, his head against the wall. He made one effort to rise, and then with a groan collapsed.