“It's all to no purpose,' he shouted—'I'll not leave an unbroken bone in that scoundrel Hartley's body.'
“'I know you wouldn't, if you got at him,' said Val. 'He would certainly be the death of him,' he added aside tome; 'he would give him some fatal blow, and that's what I'm afraid of.'
“Phil was now perfectly furious—in fact he resembled a drunken man, and might have passed for such.
“'Hartley, you scoundrel, where are you, till I make mummy of you?' he shouted.
“'Here I am,' replied Hartley, entering' the room, walking up to him, and looking him sternly in the face—'here I am—what's your will with me?'
“So comic a paralysis was, perhaps, never witnessed. Phil stood motionless, helpless, speechless. The white cowardly froth rose to his lips, his color became ashy, his jaw fell, he shook, shrunk into himself, and gasped for breath—his eyes became hollow, his squint deepened, and such was his utter prostration of strength, that his very tongue lolled out with weakness, like that of a newly dropped calf, when attempting to stand for the first time. At length he got out—
“'Hold! I believe, I'll restrain myself; but only my father's a magistrate———'
“'Your father's a scoundrel, and you are another,' said Hartley; 'and here's my respect for you.'
“Whilst speaking, he caught Phil by the nose with one hand, and also by the collar of his coat with the other, and in this position led him, in a most comical way, round the room, after which he turned him about, and inflicted a few vigorous kicks upon a part of him which must be nameless.
“'I am not sorry,' said he, 'that I forgot my note-case in the other room, as it has given me an opportunity of taming a raging lion so easily.'