Decker made use of some language not intended for publication, and there was whispering for a few minutes, followed by silence. I looked at Doddridge Knapp, sitting grim and unmoved, counting the minutes till the injunction should come. Suddenly a man bounded through the broken upper section of the door, tossed by his companions, and I found myself in a grapple before I could raise my revolver. We went down on the floor together, and I had a confused notion that the door swung open and four or five others rushed into the room. I squirmed free from my opponent, and sprang to my feet in time to see the whole pack around Doddridge Knapp. The King of the Street sat calm and forceful with a revolver in his hand, and all had halted, fearing to go farther. “Don't come too close, gentlemen,” growled the Wolf. Then I saw one of the men raise a six-shooter to aim at the defiant figure that faced them. I gave a spring and with one blow laid the man on the floor. There was a flash of fire as he fell, and a deafening noise was in my ears. Men all about me were striking at me. I scarcely felt their blows as I warded them off and returned them, for I was half-mad with the desperate sense of conflict against odds. But at last I felt myself seized in an iron grip, and in a moment was seated beside Doddridge Knapp on the desk. “The time is up,” he said. “There's the sheriff and Caswell with the writ.” “I congratulate you,” I answered, my head still swimming, noting that the enemy had drawn back at the coming of reinforcements. “Good heavens, man, you're hurt!” he cried, pointing to my left sleeve where a blood stain was spreading. The wound I had received in the night conflict at Livermore had reopened in the struggle. “It's nothing,” said I. “Just a scratch.” “Here! get a doctor!” cried the King of the Street. “Gentlemen, the directors' meeting is postponed, by order of court.” CHAPTER XXVI A VISION OF THE NIGHT “You are a very imprudent person,” said Luella, smiling, yet with a most charming trace of anxiety under the smile. “What have I been doing now?” I asked. “That is what you are to tell me. Papa told us a little about your saving his life and his plans this morning, but he was so very short about it. Let me know the whole story from your own mouth. Was this the arm that was hurt?” I started to give a brief description of my morning's adventure, but there was something in my listener's face that called forth detail after detail, and her eyes kindled as I told the tale of the battle that won Omega in the stock Board, and the fight that rescued the fruits of victory in the office of the company. “There is something fine in it, after all,” she said when I was through. “There is something left of the spirit of the old adventurers and the knights. Oh, I wish I were a man! No, I don't either. I'd rather be the daughter of a man--a real man--and I know I am that.”