It was not the police, but the attendants, who forced their way through the crowd in the bar. Seeing this, Lancaster's friend, by name Dicky Baird, and by profession an idler of the West End, seized his chum's arm and dragged him out of the bar by main force.
"No use waiting for a summons," said Dicky, when the two were in the vestibule. "I think you'd better get home, Frank."
The other stared at a poster which announced that a new musical comedy would be produced that night at the Piccadilly Theatre, with Miss Fanny Tait in the chief part.
"I'm not going till I see her," he said, pointing to this name.
"What, Fairy Fan? Why, all the row was about her."
"Because he abused the woman. She's a good sort, and I like her very much. You know I do, but there's no love."
"Not on your part, perhaps, but Starth loves her, and you knocked him down."
"I wish I'd killed him," said Lancaster, between his teeth.
"Don't talk rashly, Frank," said the other, with uneasiness. "If anything goes wrong with Starth you'll get into trouble."
"Malice aforethought," said Lancaster, carelessly. "Pshaw The man isn't hurt. He'll be up and swearing before the play begins."