Slowly, grimly, Cabot forced the imprisoned hand upward between the shoulder-blades of his opponent, until with a groan the latter relinquished the sword, and it fell clattering to the ground.
Smiling, Cabot stooped down and picked it up, and forced the young intruder against the wall.
“Now,” said the earth-man, “explain yourself.”
The boy faced Myles like a cornered panther.
“It’s Quivven,” he snarled. “You have stolen my Quivven.”
“Nonsense!” Myles exclaimed. “What do you mean?”
“I am Tipi the Steadfast,” the youth replied. “Long have I loved the Golden Flame, and she me, until you came to this city. When you arrived I was away on a military expedition, winning distinctions to lay at the tiny feet of my fair one. Last night I returned to find her working at your laboratory. One or the other, you or I, must die.”
“You are absurd!”
“In my country,” Tipi returned, looking the earth-man straight in the eye, “no common soldier is permitted to dictate manners to a gentleman. I repeat that Quivven—”
But at this point, Myles cuffed the young Vairking over one ear, knocking him flat upon the walk; and, as he scrambled sputtering to his feet, dealt him another blow which sent him reeling into the street. Then Myles barred the gate, and turned toward the house.