Adam was in front of him now, his big, broad frame almost touching the intruder. The quick, determined movement meant danger. No one had ever seen Gregg so stirred.
“You will do as I tell you, sir! Leave the room—now—at once! Do you hear me!”
Every man was on his feet. Those who had heard Gregg’s outburst a few hours before knew the reason. Others were entirely ignorant of the cause of his wrath.
“You are not responsible for me or my actions. I’m a man who can——”
“Man! You are not a man, sir! You are a thief, one who steals into a brother painter’s home and robs him of everything he holds dear. Get out of here! Go and hide yourself in the uttermost parts of the earth where no man you ever saw will know you! Jump into the sea—destroy yourself! Go, you leper! Savages protect their women!”
He had his fingers in Hartman’s collar now and was backing him towards the door. One or two men tried to stop him, but Gregg’s voice rang out clear:
“Keep your hands off! Out he goes, if I have to throw him downstairs. Stand back, all of you—” and with a mighty effort he caught the younger and apparently stronger man under the armpits and hurled him through the open doorway.
For some seconds no one spoke. The suddenness of the attack, the uncontrollable anger of the distinguished painter—so gentle and forbearing always—the tremendous strength of the man; the cowering look on Hartman’s face—a look that plainly told of his guilt—had stunned every one in the room.
Gregg broke the silence. He had locked the door on Hartman and was again in his chair by the table, a flushed face and rumpled shirt the only marks of the encounter.
“I owe you an apology, gentlemen,” he said, adjusting his cuffs and speaking in the same voice with which he would have asked for a match to light his cigar. “I did not intend to disturb the meeting, but there are some things I cannot stand. We have curs prowling around in society, walking in and out of decent homes, trusted and believed in, that are twice as dangerous as mad dogs. Hartman is one of them. When they bite they kill. The only way is to shut your doors in their faces. That I shall do whenever one crosses my path. And now, if you will excuse me, I will ask one of you to fill my place and let me go back to my studio. I have an appointment at four, as I told you this morning, and I’m late.”