“Nothing,” with a patience meant to exasperate. “What are you doing with Kitty’s red coat?”
Rodgers met the unexpected question with unmoved countenance.
“You are mistaken,” he said. “It is not Miss Baird’s coat.”
“It isn’t?” Potter’s rising inflection expressed doubt. “Let me see it?” And he reached forward a grasping hand.
With a quick movement Rodgers pulled the coat beyond Potter’s reach. The next second he was staggering backward from a crashing blow delivered as Potter, who had gathered himself for a spring, swung forward upon his feet. Rage at the treacherous attack was a stimulant to Rodgers and he met Potter’s second onslaught with a swift right-hander. The scientist was no easy antagonist and for the moment he had the better of the rough and tumble fight; then as the younger man got his second wind he gave back and Rodgers pinned him against the wall.
“You yellow dog!” Rodgers half sobbed the words in his rage as he shifted his grip to the man’s throat.
The movement gave Potter his opportunity. Wrenching his right hand free he jerked a revolver from his coat pocket and brought the butt against Rodgers’ temple with stunning force. Rodgers sagged backward, then regained his balance as Potter’s revolver again descended on his head. With a low moan he sank back, overturning a chair in his fall.
As Potter bent over the half-conscious man a resounding knock at the apartment door caused him to start upright. One hasty glance about the room showed him that the window overlooking the fire-escape was open. Potter’s eyes sought the red coat. It lay on the floor, half hidden under Rodgers. Stooping over, he seized one of the sleeves and tugged at it.
The action aroused Rodgers from his stupor and with such strength as remained he grasped the sleeve also. It was an unequal tug-of-war. Potter’s cry of triumph was drowned by repeated knocking on the door and the sound of raised voices demanding admittance. Not daring to remain longer, he released his hold on the coat sleeve and bolted through the window and down the fire-escape as an agile elevator boy climbed through the pantry window from an adjoining balcony and popped into the living room. He stopped aghast at sight of Rodgers, torn and bleeding, and the chaotic condition of the overturned furniture.