He measured the distance with his eye and then sprang swiftly forward, striking blindly at my face.
I knocked him down!
Schwartzmuller was near the door, looking over his shoulder as he felt for the great brass knob.
"Mein Gott!" he bellowed.
"Stop!" I shouted. "Come back here and take this fellow away with you!"
Tarnowsy was sitting up, looking about him in a dazed, bewildered manner.
At that moment, Poopendyke came running down the stairs, attracted by the loud voices. He was followed closely by three or four wide-eyed glaziers who were working on the second floor.
"In the name of heaven, sir!"
"I've bruised my knuckles horribly," was all that I said. I seemed to be in a sort of a daze myself. I had never knocked a man down before in my life. It was an amazingly easy thing to do. I could hardly believe that I had done it.
Tarnowsy struggled to his feet and faced me, quivering with rage. I was dumbfounded to see that he was not covered with blood. But he was of a light, yellowish green. I could scarcely believe my eyes.