[CHAPTER III.]
MATT MAKES AN INVESTMENT.
Murgatroyd, his face distorted with anger and his little eyes snapping viciously, was clutching a slender, middle-aged woman by the arm. He had leaped at her, in a burst of rage, overturning the chair, which happened to stand in his way.
Matt's unceremonious entrance into the room startled Murgatroyd. Releasing his grasp of Mrs. Traquair's arm, he fell back a step, staring at Matt as though at a ghost.
Mrs. Traquair was so desperate and frightened that she was not nearly so startled by the lad's spring through the window as was Murgatroyd. From Matt's manner she was not long in realizing that fate had sent her a champion at just the moment when she needed one most. Instinctively, she drew toward the youth, half fearful and half appealing.
"Ah, King!" exclaimed Murgatroyd, struggling to get the whip hand of himself. "Rather a peculiar way you have of coming into a house," he added, with some sarcasm.
"It looked as though I was needed," returned Matt grimly.
"You'd better look again. You're not needed. This is a little money transaction between Mrs. Traquair and myself. Isn't that so, Mrs. Traquair?" he queried, turning to the woman.
"Y-e-s," answered Mrs. Traquair, her voice so low it was almost a whisper.
"Don't butt in here, King," scowled Murgatroyd. "You hear what the lady says. This is none of your business."