Flannery rose and turned and, with a true aim, shot the professor!

Shot him full in the face with the insect powder, and before the blinded
man could recover his breath or spit out the bitter dose, or wipe his
eyes, Flannery had him by the collar and had jerked him to the head of
the stairs. It is true; he kicked him downstairs. Not insultingly, or
with bad feeling, but in a moment of emotional insanity, as the defense
would say. This was an extenuating circumstance, and excuses Flannery,
but the professor, being a foreigner, could not see the fine point of
the distinction, and was angry.

That night the professor did not sleep in Westcote, but the next
afternoon he appeared at Mrs. Muldoon's, supported by Monsieur Jules,
the well-known Seventh Avenue _restaurateur_, and Monsieur Renaud, who
occupies an important post as _garcon_ in Monsieur Jules' establishment.

"For the keek," said the professor, "I care not. I have been keek
before. The keek by one gentleman, him I resent, him I revenge; the keek
by the base, him I scorn! I let the keek go, Madame Muldoon. Of the keek
I say not at all, but the flea! Ah, the poor flea! Excuse the weep,
Madame Muldoon!"

The professor wept into his handkerchief, and the two men looked
seriously solemn, and patted the professor on the back.

"Ah, my Alphonse, the flea! The poor leetle flea!" they cried.

"For the flea I have the revenge!" cried the professor, fiercely. "How
you say it? I will be to have the revenge. I would to be the revenge
having. The revenge to having will I be. Him will I have, that revenge