“Would you, sir? Then look here. Out in the West, from where I came, we have no policemen and magistrates at every corner, ready to do all our dirty work. We do it ourselves, and carry with us all that is ready and necessary for the job.”
He advanced menacingly towards Saul; and as he took his first step, his hand dropped Gertrude’s, and he put it behind him.
“George Harrington! For Heaven’s sake?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he cried laughingly, taking her hand, laying it upon his arm, and stroking it gently. “I forgot. He riled me, and I felt as if I was back among the roughs out yonder. There, I don’t want to quarrel, Mr Saul Harrington. I suppose we are uncles and cousins or something of the kind. Shake hands, and let’s have a glass of something to show we are not bad friends. I suppose there is something in the house—eh, my dear?”
“Yes, but—”
“Look here, sir,” cried Saul, ignoring the proffered hand, “I am not frightened by your Yankee, bullying ways, and I tell you what it is—”
Saul Harrington did not tell the new-comer what it was, for the door opened, and Doctor Lawrence came in hastily.
“What’s the matter?” he cried. “Some one ill?”
“Yes, old gentleman,” said the stranger banteringly. “This chap—Mr Saul Harrington I think he calls himself—has got a fit.”
Doctor Lawrence gazed sharply at the speaker, and then placed his glasses upon his nose, as Gertrude withdrew her arm and hurriedly crossed to the doctor’s side.