"You have no evidence--"
"I have more than you think of. You ass," said Herrick in a cold rage, "for the sake of our past friendship I have been sparing you all these weeks. I got you down here in the hope that you would be man enough to come forward and confess your follies. I do not say crimes, for you have not pluck enough to commit the smallest. But you kept your own counsel, and thought you were pulling wool over my eyes. I have seen through all these weeks. And now you insult the woman I love, and--"
Robin jumped up in a childish rage. "You don't love her--you won't marry her," he panted. "I won't have it!"
"Sit down," commanded Herrick sternly, "you have nothing to say in the matter. Leave Miss Endicotte's name out of it. We have had enough of this nonsense. Confess what you have done."
"I won't," Joyce set his teeth.
"Very good. Then I shall send for the police."
"You dare not."
"Ah! You think so." Herrick rose and walked towards the bell. Joyce anticipated him and stood in his path with flashing eyes. Herrick laughed. "Are you about to measure your strength against mine?" he said.
Before he could speak further the little man had flung himself at his throat like a wild beast. Strong as Herrick was, the abnormal nerve force of Joyce made him no mean antagonist. But the contest was unequal, and at last Herrick lifted Joyce above his head, shook him' as a terrier does a rat, and pitched him headlong into a chair, where the creature, helpless, and overborne, sat gnashing his teeth and glaring. For the moment Herrick thought he was mad. "Have you had enough?" asked the doctor recovering his breath, "if not I am quite willing to administer the thrashing you so richly deserve."
Joyce still glared and stamped in impotent rage. Then he suddenly burst into tears and hid his face in his hands. "You great brute," he wailed, "you might spare me!"