Part 11 (2/2)

When Peter came up to the combatants, he stopped, with his hands upon his hips, and his arms akimbo, sized up the situation in an instant, and then seized Eli by the scruff of the neck, and raised him to the floor, with his victim still clinging to him in a very loving-like embrace, and with Eli still beating the air at random with his free hand.

”Loosen yourself, brute!” squealed Peter to the stranger. ”Loosen yourself, I say!” he shouted.

But the stranger paid no heed to him. Whereupon, Peter, using his fat hands as an entering wedge, heaved away with mighty force, to left and to right, and the twain came asunder. The stranger now stood back, with tousled head and frightful mien, glaring savagely at Eli; while Eli looked the same in the matter of dishevelment, his scanty face showed little more of the baser pa.s.sions than would a paving stone.

”You rascals! What's all this about?” demanded Peter, directing his eyes on Eli.

”Nothing,” piped Eli.

Then turning to the stranger, who was a young man, Peter said, stentoriously: ”Clear out at once!”

The stranger took up his fallen hat, turned malevolently upon Peter, and hissed: ”All right, you hog! You will pay dear for such an insult!” He turned toward Eli. ”You scoundrel,” he shouted, ”your master keeps you here to insult people--” but he did not finish the sentence, so wroth was he in his anger.

Peter rubbed his hands so rapidly that it would be a wild guess to say whether he was doing it in jest or in earnest. The stranger proceeded toward the front door.

”Wait!” exclaimed Peter, as the stranger was about to make his exit.

The young man turned about, very deliberately, in his tracks, leered at Peter as if he would again hurl a terrible threat at him, but he said nothing.

”Mike Barton,” commanded Peter, for that is whom the young man proved to be, ”come to my office.”

Whereupon, Peter led the way, and Mike Barton followed him to the little black office. Peter removed his cap, resumed his pipe, and sat down, wheezing like an asthmatic pup, near his place of espionage; and he looked curiously at Mike, who had taken a seat unbidden.

”What was the trouble, Mike?” he asked.

”I simply sought to pa.s.s him to get to your office, when he confronted me with the insulting remark, 'No pimps allowed in there--your office--without permission of the boss.'”

”He's a good clerk, Mike; he is; and he serves me well.”

”Too well, Mr. Dieman, for your safety.”

”Ha, ha! Well, he has my instructions, and you know the pa.s.sword to this office.”

”I do, sir; but I resent the insult.”

”All right, my boy, it's over with now; Eli is a good one for me, you know.”

”I reckon he is,” returned Mike.

”Now, what can I do for you?” asked Peter, eyeing Mike with one of his singularly inquisitorial stares, which gave Mike a spell of the fidgets.

”I was sent here by the keeper of our place to know the outlook for a continuance of police protection,” he replied without any circ.u.mlocution about saying what he had in mind.

”Eh!” Peter e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

”Yes; we want to know--or they want to know. What's the prospects?”

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