Davidson, much perturbed, if somewhat incredulous.

"Heyst? No, these two--the bandmaster, the fellow who's taking these
women about and our Schomberg. Signor Zangiacomo ran amuck in the
morning, and went for our worthy friend. I tell you, they were rolling
on the floor together on this very veranda, after chasing each other all
over the house, doors slamming, women screaming, seventeen of them, in
the dining-room; Chinamen up the trees. Hey, John? You climb tree to see
the fight, eh?"

The boy, almond-eyed and impassive, emitted a scornful grunt, finished
wiping the table, and withdrew.

"That's what it was--a real, go-as-you-please scrap. And Zangiacomo
began it. Oh, here's Schomberg. Say, Schomberg, didn't he fly at you,
when the girl was missed, because it was you who insisted that the
artists should go about the audience during the interval?"

Schomberg had reappeared in the doorway. He advanced. His bearing
was stately, but his nostrils were extraordinarily expanded, and he
controlled his voice with apparent effort.

"Certainly. That was only business. I quoted him special terms and
all for your sake, gentlemen. I was thinking of my regular customers.
There's nothing to do in the evenings in this town. I think, gentlemen,
you were all pleased at the opportunity of hearing a little good music;
and where's the harm of offering a grenadine, or what not, to a lady
artist? But that fellow--that Swede--he got round the girl. He got round
all the people out here. I've been watching him for years. You remember
how he got round Morrison."