He felt foolish and apologetic. He had imagined himself unassailably
in the right, and it now appeared that he was in the wrong.
For a moment he was about to become conciliatory. Then the
recollection of the girl's panic and her hints at some trouble
which threatened her--presumably through the medium of this man,
brother or no brother--checked him. He did not know what it was all
about, but the one thing that did stand out clearly in the welter
of confused happenings was the girl's need for his assistance.
Whatever might be the rights of the case, he was her accomplice,
and must behave as such.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
The young man shook a large, gloved fist in his face.
"You blackguard!"
A rich, deep, soft, soothing voice slid into the heated scene like
the Holy Grail sliding athwart a sunbeam.
"What's all this?"
A vast policeman had materialized from nowhere. He stood beside
them, a living statue of Vigilant Authority. One thumb rested
easily on his broad belt. The fingers of the other hand caressed
lightly a moustache that had caused more heart-burnings among the
gentler sex than any other two moustaches in the C-division.
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