“If you speak to me like that again, I'll not be responsible for what I do,” said Franz evenly.
“I congratulate you—you have done a fine thing for yourself. It means ease and plenty.” He stretched out his hand mockingly.
Franz struck the extended hand roughly with his fist. “What you insinuate is a lie! You are a coward to get behind the advantage you have of me—a coward!”
Geoff dropped back a step. With his cane he hit Franz lightly at first, and then made as if to repeat the blow.
Forgetting everything but his hate for the man before him, Franz put out his hand to take Geoff by the throat. It was then the cane descended, striking him across the temples. Instantly foot and hand alike were stayed. He reeled as though he would fall,—putting up both hands to his eyes.
Geoff saw the door of his sister's room swing open, and turning with an oath from Franz, who stood swaying unsteadily, he ran down the stairs.
In the hall Franz lurched from side to side, his hands to his face. “Franz,” Margaret called, “Franz, dear! what did he do?”
With staggering uncertain steps he started toward her.
“Franz!” she called. “Dear Franz! what is it?”
He gave no answer. He only groped his way nearer, and she saw the cruel red welts just above his eyes. He had come almost to her, when he sank to his knees at her feet.