"Steady, Will!" called Monty from below; but it was altogether too
late for advice. Will gathered himself like a spring, and hurled the
Greek downstairs backward.

Then the point of Monty's strategy appeared. He caught him, saved him
from being stunned against the wall, and, before the Greek could
recover sufficiently to use heels and teeth or whisk out the knife he
kept groping for, hurled him a stage farther on his journey--face
forward this time down to where Fred and I were waiting. We kicked him
out into the street too dazed to do anything but wander home.

"Are you hurt, Will?" laughed Monty. "This isn't the States, you know;
by gad, they'll jail you here if you do your own police work! Instead
of Brussels I'd have had to stay and hire lawyers to defend you!"

"Aw--quit preaching!" Yerkes answered. "If I hadn't seen you there on
the stairs with your mouth open I'd have been satisfied to put him down
and spank him!"

It was then that the much more unexpected struck us speechless--even
Monty for the moment, who is not much given to social indecision. We
had not known there was a woman guest in that hotel. One does not look
in Zanzibar for ladies with a Mayfair accent unaccompanied by menfolk
able to protect them. Yet an indubitable Englishwoman, expensively if
carelessly dressed, came to the head of the stairs and stood beside
Yerkes looking down at the rest of us with a sort of well bred, rather
tolerant scorn.

"Am I right in believing this is Lord Montdidier?" she asked,
pronouncing the word as it should be--Mundidger.