between Balaam's ass and a laughing hyena."

Mr. Bross gaped with resentment, which gradually overcame his better
judgment.

"You won't, eh?" he said stridently. "I'd like to know what you're
going to do to stop me, Perce--"

P. Sybarite stepped quickly toward him and George, with a growl, threw
out his hands in a manner based upon a somewhat hazy conception of the
formulæ of self-defence. To his surprise, the open hand of the smaller
man slipped swiftly past what he called his "guard" and placed a
smart, stinging slap upon lips open to utter the syllable "val."

Bearing with indignation, he swung his right fist heavily for the head
of P. Sybarite. Somehow, strangely, it missed its goal and ...

George Bross sat upon the dusty, grimy floor, batted his eyes,
ruefully rubbed the back of his head, and marvelled at the
reverberations inside it.

Then he became conscious of P. Sybarite some three feet distant,
regarding him with tight-lipped interest.

"Good God!" George ejaculated with feeling. "Did _you_ do that to me?"

"I did," returned P. Sybarite curtly. "Want me to prove it?"

"Plenty, thanks," returned the shipping clerk morosely, as he picked
himself up and dusted off his clothing. "Gee! You got a wallop like