The bull fighter turned like a mad tiger, saw what was transpiring, threw the assailants who were clinging to him, and plunged at the man who was grasping the lady’s arm and endeavoring to drag her away, for the music still kept up, and many were dancing all unconscious of the melee.
There was a tremendous rush, the bull fighter caught the wretch and whirled him, spinning like a teetotum, ten feet away. Never did a dancing dervish spin so merrily.
Then came an awful crash, as the man struck a swaying column of dancers, who immediately toppled over upon him.
By this time the detective was at the side of the bull fighter.
“Keep back, you young fools! Keep back, I say, or I’ll land the whole of you in the Tombs!” His words were heard.
Backed up as they were with the shining barrel of a revolver, they commanded respect.
By this time the management had succeeded in getting the officers from the supper-room to the spot, and upon seeing them come, the young fellows who had been the cause of the disturbance slunk away, losing themselves in the crowd.
The management apologized to the bull fighter when they learned what had occurred, but his companion seemed to have received a nervous shock—at any rate they retired for their wraps.
There was something more he desired to learn and the chance must soon come.