In the course of Blatchford's ministrations I was regaled with eloquent descriptions of the manner in which my late adversary took his departure from the castle. He went forth vowing vengeance, calling down upon my head all the maledictions he could lay his tongue to, and darkly threatening to have me driven out of the country. I was not to expect a call from his seconds. He would not submit his friends to the indignities they were sure to encounter at the hands of a barbarian of my type. But, just the same, I would hear from him. I would regret the day, etc., etc. I had forgotten Mr. Bangs, the lawyer. Sitting alone in my study, late in the afternoon, smoking a solitary pipe of peace, I remembered him: the man with the top button off. What had become of him? His presence (or, more accurately, his absence) suddenly loomed up before me as the forerunner of an unwelcome invasion of my preserves. He was, no doubt, a sort of advance agent for the Titus family and its immediate ramifications. Just as I was on the point of starting out to make inquiries concerning him, there came to my ears the sound of tapping on the back of Red Ludwig's portrait. Not until then did it occur to me that I had been waiting for two hours for that simple manifestation of interest and curiosity from the regions above. I rushed over and rapped resoundingly upon Ludwig's pudgy knee. The next instant there was a click and then the secret door swung open, revealing the eager, concerned face of my neighbour. "What has happened?" she cried. I lifted her out of the frame. Her gaze fell upon the bandaged fist. "Mr. Bangs spoke of a pistol. Don't tell me that he--he shot you!" I held up my swollen hand rather proudly. It smelled vilely of arnica. "This wound was self-inflicted, my dear Countess," I said, thrilled by her expression of concern. "I had the exquisite pleasure--and pain--of knocking your former husband down." "Oh, splendid!" she cried, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Mr. Bangs was rather hazy about it, and he would not let me risk telephoning. You knocked Maris down?" "Emphatically," said I. She mused. "I think it is the first time it has ever happened to him. How--how did he like it?" "It appeared to prostrate him." She smiled understandingly. "I am glad you did it, Mr. Smart." "If I remember correctly, you once said that he had struck you, Countess." Her face flushed. "Yes. On three separate occasions he struck me in the face with his open hand. I--I testified to that effect at the trial. Every one seemed to look upon it as a joke. He swore that they were--were love pats." "I hope his lack of discrimination will not lead him to believe that I was delivering a love pat," said I, grimly. "Now, tell me everything that happened," she said, seating herself in my big armchair. Her feet failed to touch the floor. She was wearing the little tan pumps.