Hardly had he spoken when a wild-looking man entered the shop with upraised bludgeon and a cry of "Traitor!" Trafford picked up a convenient beer-can and floored the intruder with a well-directed blow.
"Close the door and shut the shutters!" called out Trafford, drawing his sword and holding at bay a couple of ruffians who had outrun the main body of his pursuers.
There was little time to spare, but there were one or two early customers of Herr Krantz, who lent instant and unquestioning aid. These helped Trafford told the narrow street till the landlord had set his oaken shutters in front of the glass shop-front. Then, as the increasing pressure threatened to overwhelm them, they darted into the shop, banged the door, and shot the massive bolts. A rattle of blows resounded on the woodwork, and a chorus of fierce cries came in strident chorus from the crowded lane. Krantz switched up the electric light to relieve the darkness.
"I will telephone for the police," he said.
"No," said Trafford, who did not share his host's confidence in the Weidenbruck constabulary. "Ring up the Palace."
Krantz retired to the telephone in the inner room, and the hammering on door and shutters went on with redoubled violence.
"What is it that they want?" asked the inmates of the shop of Trafford.
"Me," replied the latter.
"Why?"
Trafford had but the vaguest idea, but he answered boldly: