Stirling studied these men, watched them drink the wine, and saw that they had fallen under the hidden observation of the sailor who resembled a second lieutenant of the Revenue Service.
The Ice Pilot sensed adventure. He also ordered a bottle of light wine, and paid for it with his last dollar. He sipped the liquid slowly, pretended to be interested in the woman at the piano, and waited for something to happen.
He had not long to wait.
The two seamen rose from their table, tossed down coins, glanced meaningly toward the woman at the piano and the waiter who had served them wine, and went out from the Blubber Room.
Stirling looked at the sailor, who half-lifted himself from his chair, thought better of the action, dropped back, thrust his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his palms.
The woman's song rose and fell in the heated air, while the lamps flickered and almost went out. The piano's tinkling notes settled to a shrill tune that was a signal.
There followed swifter than Stirling could make note of the events, an oath from the waiter, a curse upon somebody, a loud banging of the piano, and a woman's penetrating scream.
A chair, a cuspidor, and part of a table hurtled across the Blubber Room; bottles struck the walls; the light went out when the lamps fell in a thousand pieces to the floor.
Stirling overturned his table, stumbled through the gloom, tripped over a body, went down on all fours, and crawled to the door. He raised himself and attempted to turn the knob, but it would not budge. He heard behind him the shrieks of the woman and the thud of many blows, then, after a minute's uproar, a match was lighted, shielded in a red palm, and its rays directed downward to the sawdust floor.
The Ice Pilot felt his heart throb in his staunch body. The woman, who had stood by the piano, lay face upward with the hilt of a seaman's knife protruding from her breast; carmine stained her neck and waist.