There is a popular impression that men of violence are brave; but it is a mistaken one. Marlowe had not the nerve to carry out his threat, while covered by a pistol in the hands of a resolute antagonist. There was another reason also. The partitions were thin, and the noise had aroused the gentleman sleeping in No. 9. He came out into the entry, and knocked at the door of No. 8.
“Put up your pistol, boy,” said Marlowe, hurriedly, “and I will open the door.”
Julius did not put it up, but hastily concealed it, and the door was opened.
The visitor was an elderly man in his nightclothes.
“How do you expect a man to sleep?” he said, peevishly, “when you are making such an infernal noise?”
“I beg your pardon,” said Marlowe, politely, “but I am just leaving my friend here, and shall retire at once. You won’t hear any more noise.”{216}
“It is time it stopped,” said the visitor, not quite appeased. “Why, it’s after midnight!”
“Is it, really?” said Marlowe. “I did not think it so late. Good-night, Julius.”
“Good-night,” said our hero.
The visitor retired, and so did Marlowe. But Julius, distrusting his neighbor, not only locked, but barricaded the door, and put the revolver under his pillow. But he had no further visit from Marlowe. The latter, for prudential reasons, postponed the revenge which he still meant to take.