"Do you realise who I am?" Ben roared, thinking to intimidate his opponent.
"I have a fairly good idea. But that doesn't make any difference.
It's you I am dealing with now, and not your father."
"But I can drive you out of this parish. I can make it so hot for you that you won't dare to stay here another day."
"H'm," and Douglas gave a slight sarcastic laugh. "Why don't you do it, then? Here is your chance. Make it hot for me, and let me feel some of your great driving power."
These deliberate and tantalising words stirred Ben to the highest pitch of anger. He threw all discretion to the winds, and raved, cursed and stamped in his fury.
"Stop that," Douglas sternly ordered, stepping forward and laying his right hand firmly upon his shoulder. "If you have no respect for yourself, have it for the ladies who are present."
Ben's only reply was to throw aside the warning hand and hit his opponent a blow in the face. Like lightning Douglas suddenly reached out, seized Ben in his arms, lifted him bodily from the floor, and hurried with him toward the door. Ben tore and scratched like a wildcat in his efforts to free himself. But he was helpless in the powerful grip, and soon he found himself tumbling down the steps leading to the hall.
Douglas stood for a few seconds at the door looking out into the night. Then he turned and walked slowly back across the room, picked up his violin and put it into its case.
"I think it best to discontinue the dance," he told the people who were watching him with keenest interest. "I am in no mood for playing any more to-night."
As he spoke his eyes happened to rest upon the Stubbles sisters, who were standing together on the opposite side of the hall. Scorn and anger were depicted upon their faces as they glared upon him. It was the elder, Miss Annabel, who gave the parting thrust. She stepped quickly forward into the middle of the room, and looked about over the gathering.