"Keep your paws off me!" he exclaimed. "I think that you're insane, if you ask me!"
The hotel detective came hurrying up.
"You'll have to cut that out!" he said. "What's the row here, anyway?"
"The place is harboring a maniac!" Prale said.
"It's harboring a crook!" Shepley cried.
Prale lurched forward and grasped him by both arms, and shook him until Rufus Shepley's teeth chattered.
"Another word out of you, and I'll forget that your hair is gray!" Prale exclaimed, and then he tossed Shepley to one side again.
"Either of you guests here?" the house detective demanded. "No? Then maybe you'd both better get out until you can cool off. If you want to stage a scrap, go down and rent Madison Square Garden and advertise in the newspapers. I wouldn't mind seeing a good fight myself. But this lobby isn't any prize ring. Get me?"
Sidney Prale, his face still flaming, whirled around and started for the entrance, the crowd parting to let him through. Rufus Shepley, fuming and fussing, followed him slowly. The house detective accompanied him to the door.
Prale was waiting at the curb, a Prale whose face was white now because of the temper he was fighting to control. He stepped close to Shepley's side.