"I got already paid for this," he explained.

Up went the brass to his lips again. The tonal stairway which leads
up to the chorus of Egypt rose in rasping wailfulness. It
culminated in an excessive, unendurable, brazen shriek--and the
Honorable William Linder experienced upon the undefended rear of his
person the most violent kick of a lifetime not always devoted to the
arts of peace. It projected him clear of the window-sill. His last
sensible vision was the face of the musician, the mouth absurdly
hollow and pursed above the suddenly removed mouthpiece. Then an
awning intercepted the politician's flight. He passed through this,
penetrated a second and similar stretch of canvas shading the next
window below, and lay placid on his own front steps with three ribs
caved in and a variegated fracture of the collar-bone. By the time
the descent was ended the German musician had tucked his brass under
his arm and was hurrying, in panic, down the street, his ears still
ringing with the concussion which had blown the angry householder
from his own front window. He was intercepted by a running
policeman.

"Where was the explosion?" demanded the officer.

"Explosion? I hear a noise in the larch house on the corner,"
replied the musician dully.

The policeman grabbed his arm. "Come along back. You fer a
witness! Come on; you an' yer horn."

"It iss not a horn," explained the German patiently, "'it iss a