moment when--He laughed fiercely; from his head the blood flowed; he did
not feel that hurt now.

The officer regarded the strong, noble figure moving just a little to
and fro, the lips set ironically, the dark eyes that gleamed in the
night as with sardonic derision.

"Pardon me, sir," he said in a brisker tone, "but hadn't we better go
in? This, I take it, is your house; you can look after yourself
somewhat, and afterward describe your assailants. Then we'll start out
to find and arrest them, if possible!"

"Arrest?" John Steele looked at the officer; his gaze slowly regained
its accustomed steadiness. "I am afraid I can't help you; the darkness,
the suddenness of the attack--"

"But surely you must have noticed something, sir; whether they were
large, or small; what sort of clothes they wore--" The other shook his
head; the man appeared disappointed. "Well, I'll make a report of the
attack, but--"

Steele loosened his hold on the railing; he appeared now to have
recovered his strength. "That's just what I don't want you to do. My
name is John Steele, you know of me?" And, as the other returned a
respectful affirmative, "It is my desire to escape any notoriety in this
little matter, you understand? As one whose profession brings him in
connection with these people, the episode seems rather anomalous as well
as humiliating. It might even," his accents had a covert mocking sound,
"furnish a paragraph for one of the comic weeklies. So you see--"
Something passed from his hand to the policeman's.