"Say"--Cleggy put his forefinger significantly to the side of his
nose--"say, can't youse let a sport in on--"

"Clear out!" Doc Madison broke in quite as suavely as before--but there
was a sudden glint of steel in the gray eyes as they held the bruiser's,
and Cleggy, hastily picking up the tray, scuffled from the room.

Madison watched the door close, then he began to pace slowly up and down
the room.

"Pull the chairs up to the table so we can take things comfortably," he
directed.

"There ain't but two," grinned Pale Face Harry.

"Oh, well, never mind," said Madison.

"Slew the couch around and pull that up--Helena and I will sit on the
head of it."

Still pacing up and down the length of the room, his hands in his
pockets, Doc Madison watched the others as they carried out his
directions; and then, suddenly, as he neared the door, his hand shot
out, wrenched the door open, and, quick as a panther in its spring, he
was in the hall without.

There was a yell, a scuffle, the rip and crash of rending bannisters, an
instant's silence, then a heavy thud--and then Cleggy's voice from
somewhere below in a choice and fervent flow of profanity.