And the drink-maddened ruffian suddenly drew a knife and, brandishing it above his head, sprang toward his companion.
In another second the weapon would have descended but for a most opportune interruption.
"Stop!"
Farley turned and glared in the direction from which the voice proceeded.
Al Allston stood in the doorway, in his hand a revolver, which was leveled at the head of the would-be assassin.
CHAPTER V.
AL CLAIMS HIS REWARD.
Al was bowed, by the now obsequious servant, into Mrs. Anderson's elegantly furnished drawing room.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man, cringingly. "I didn't know that you were a friend of the family, or I wouldn't have spoken as I did. You see, sir, we're a good deal troubled by book agents and such like."
"Wouldn't it be a good idea to be civil to everyone?" said Al. "It would not cost you anything, and you'd be sure to make no mistake."