O’Neil sat an amused spectator, but Marley had soon passed the amused stage. O’Neil watched him with almost as much relish as he did the play itself. Marley at first was interested, then excited, and last angry. When an American naval officer, for he told O’Neil in a sullen growl that was the intention of the queer uniform displayed by the villain, was shown to be rude to a Japanese lady of high rank and the hero, a Japanese naval lieutenant, interfered and vanquished by sword play his much bigger antagonist, it proved all O’Neil could do to suppress the irate sailorman, who would have gone to the American officer’s aid. Then the tide turned and a party of foreign sailors marched to the rescue of their officer. “The nerve of those fellows, carrying our flag,” O’Neil exclaimed, for the first time showing his displeasure. Marley was uttering imprecations under his breath; his strong hands were clutching the brass railing in front of the box. Then on the stage the tide of battle turned; a company of Japanese sailors swarmed from the wings, rolling over their enemies like ten-pins. The American flag fell to the ground, where it lay, while the stage foreigners beat a hasty and inglorious retreat. Before O’Neil could fathom the actions of Marley, the sailor had leaped over the low railing on to the small stage and within ten feet of the insulted flag. So quickly was it done, that those in the audience, so absorbed had they been in the scene before them, had not differentiated the real American sailor from the imitations. Even the actors were not aware that a newcomer with a feeling akin to murder in his heart was in their midst. The faithful Jack O’Neil had sat spellbound for the fraction of a second, undecided what action should be taken. Sago’s eyes danced with excitement. Fully three-quarters American at heart, having lived fifteen years in the United States navy, he was as much out of sympathy with this quarrel-breeding play as was O’Neil himself. “Bring the manager,” O’Neil cried suddenly, shoving the steward out of the box. “Tell him to call the police, for there’s going to be the prettiest little boxing match he’s ever seen,” and with that he was on the stage in Bill Marley’s footsteps. O’Neil was close to Marley; in another step he could have laid hands upon him and carried him, if resistingly, to the box; but unfortunately for this peaceful intention of the boatswain’s mate, one of the Japanese actors was due to pick up the fallen flag and wave it in triumph above his head. His cue had come just as Marley’s hand was reaching out for the staff. Their hands nearly met and then Bill Marley’s doubled up, shot straight from the shoulder, and with terrific force, directly into the surprised actor’s face; he fell to the floor with a very unstagelike thud.