"My wife," repeated the young man with emphasis. "They tell me,
blacksmith, that thou art strong. That thou art brutal I know, but thy
strength I doubt. Come to me and test it."

The old man sprang upon him, and the Bruiser caught him by the elbows
and held him helpless as a child. He pressed him up against the wall,
pushed his wrists together, and clasped them both in his one gigantic
hand. Then, placing the other on the blacksmith's shoulder, he put his
weight upon him, and the blacksmith, cursing but helpless, sank upon
his knees.

"Now, thou hardened sinner," cried the Bruiser, bending over him. "Beg
from thy daughter on thy knees for a night's shelter in this house.
Beg, or I will thrust thy craven face against the floor."

The girl clung to her newly-found husband, and entreated him not to
hurt her father.

"I shall not hurt him if he do but speak. If he has naught but curses
on his lips, why then those lips must kiss the flags that are beneath
him. Speak out, blacksmith: what hast thou to say?"

"I beg for shelter," said the conquered man.

Instantly the Bruiser released him.

"Get thee to bed," he said, and the old man slunk away.

"Wife," said Abel Trenchon, opening his arms, "I have come all the way
from London for thee. I knew not then what drew me north, but now I