The speaker's tone was even more threatening than before; it was as if he defied disobedience. The shifty look in the Rev. Simon's eyes increased. Again he whispered to himself.
"It is nothing, only some fresh insolence, some new bee he has in his bonnet."
Then aloud, "You speak with sufficient arrogance, sir, as if the house were your own."
For response there came a storm of blows upon the panels of the door.
"By ----, if you don't open the door I'll break it in!"
Wheeling right round with a swift, crouching movement, the Rev. Simon ran towards the window. It seemed, for the moment, as if he meditated flight. He already had his hand upon the sash, to throw it open, when he changed his mind. He drew himself up, he thrust the knife back into his bosom; he strode towards the door with resolute, unflinching steps. With unfaltering hand, turning the key in the lock, he flung the door wide open. His voice rang out in tones of authority.
"Philip Avalon, how dare you conduct yourself in such a fashion? Do you forget what day this is, and that I suffer no bawling intrusion to divert my thoughts from my ministrations at the altar?"
The rejoinder which came from the young man who, regardless of the Rev. Simon's attempt to prevent his ingress, thrust his way into the room, was more forcible than civil.
"You villain! You damned villain!"
The Rev. Simon drew himself still straighter. His bearing, while it suggested horror and amazement, commanded reverence.