Now how and where did that impecunious, rough-neck painter fit into--
But the dazed question Larry was asking was interrupted by a voice
from the door--the thick voice of a man:
"Who the hell 'r' you?"
Larry whirled about. In the doorway stood a tall, bellicose young
gentleman of perhaps twenty-four or five, in evening dress, flushed of
face, holding unsteadily to the door-jamb.
"I beg your pardon," said Larry.
"'N' what the hell you doin' here?" continued the belligerent young
gentleman.
"I'd be obliged to you if you could tell me," said Larry.
"Tryin' to stall, 'r' you," declared the young gentleman with a
scowling profundity. "No go. Got to come out your corner 'n' fight.
'N' I'm goin' lick you."
The young man crossed unsteadily to Larry and took a fighting pose.
"Put 'em up!" he ordered.
This was certainly a night of strange adventure, thought Larry. His
wild escape--his coming to this unknown place--and now this befuddled
young fellow intent upon battle with him.
"Let's fight to-morrow," Larry suggested soothingly.
"Put 'em up!" ordered the other. "If you don't know what you're doin'
here, I'll show you what you're doin' here!"
But he was not to show Larry, for while he was uttering his last
words, trying to steady himself in a crouch for the delivery of a
blow, a voice sounded sharply from the doorway--a woman's voice:
"Dick!"
The young man slowly turned.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126