"Who may you be, and what's your business here?"
Bert looked straight into his eyes, as he answered, quietly:
"I heard the noise, and I came in to see what was the matter."
"Then you can just be taking yourself off again as fast as you like," growled the giant, fiercely.
Bert did not stir.
"Be off with you now. Do you hear me?" shouted Brannigan, raising his clenched fist in a way there was no mistaking.
Still Bert did not move.
"Then take that," yelled Brannigan, aiming a terrible blow at the boy. But before it could reach him the poor wife, with a wild shriek, sprang in between them, and her husband's great fist descended upon her head, felling her to the floor, where she lay as though dead.
At this moment, Mr. McMaster rushed in through the open door. Pat Brannigan knew him well, and when sober held him in profound respect. Even now his appearance checked his fury, and he stood swaying in the centre of the room, looking with his bleared, bloodshot eyes, first at Mr. McMaster, and then at the motionless heap upon the floor at his feet.
Advancing a step or two, Mr. McMaster looked into Brannigan's fiery face, and asked, sternly, as he pointed to the insensible woman lying between them: