"You shall pay for this!" he cried. The tears rushed to his eyes. "Coward! Beast! To strike a defenceless man!"
His hand went swiftly to his breast pocket, and an instant later a small revolver flashed into view. It was then that I did another strange and incomprehensible thing. With the utmost coolness I stepped forward and wrested it from his hand. I say strange and incomprehensible for the reason that he was pointing it directly at my breast and yet I had not the slightest sensation of fear. He could have shot me like a dog. I never even thought of that.
"None of that!" I cried sharply. "Now, will you be good enough to get out of this house—and stay out?"
"My seconds will call on you—"
"And they will receive just what you have received. If you or any of your friends presume to trespass on the privacy of these grounds of mine, I'll kick the whole lot of you into the Danube. Hawkes! Either show or lead Count Tarnowsy to the gates. As for you, Mr. Schwartzmuller, I shall expose—"
But the last word in restorations had departed.
CHAPTER XIV — I AM FORCED INTO BEING A HERO
My humblest apologies, dear reader, if I have led you to suspect that I want to be looked upon as a hero. Far from patting myself on the back or holding my chin a little higher because of the set-to in my baronial halls, I confess to a feeling of shame. In my study, where the efficient Blatchford put arnica and bandages on my swollen knuckles, I solemnly declared in the presence of those who attended the clinic—(my entire establishment was there to see that I had the proper attention and to tell me how happy they were that it wasn't any worse)—I say, I declared to all of them that I was an unmitigated fool and undeserving of the slightest mead of praise.