“Oh, Tom, I’m so glad, so glad that you’ve come!” she exclaimed. “I never needed you so much.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom, in quick alarm. “Any one sick?”
“No,” said Mary. “It’s that horrid man—that Hankinshaw. He forced himself into the house on the pretext that he wanted to talk business with father. He’s been drinking. He——”
But Tom had already dropped his packages. Be went into the living room with a rush. Mrs. Nestor, pale-faced and agitated, was standing in a corner wringing her hands. Mr. Nestor, still far from robust after his recent illness, was expostulating with Hankinshaw and trying to push him outside of the room.
Tom took it all in with a glance. The next instant he had grabbed Hankinshaw by the collar and whirled him around.
CHAPTER XIV
KICKED FOR A GOAL
A look of fear came into the red mottled face of Hankinshaw when he saw who had hold of him.
“Leggo o’ me,” he said, in a thick voice. “Whazzer matter with you, anyhow? Regular Buttinski!”
Without saying a word, Tom, with one push of his sinewy arm, shoved the fellow out of the room. Without relinquishing his grasp on his collar he forced him through the hall. Mary shrank aside as she watched them coming.
“Hold the door open, Mary, please,” said Tom.