"You had better get up. He means to strike you!" Anthony made no reply; he sat still and glowered at his plate. A close observer would have noted, though, that his swift, powerful body was adjusted for a sudden leap and a tigerish lashing out. Tarrant reached his side. "Mr. Stevens," said the man, fury shaking his voice, "I have received your message." Anthony turned his head and waited. "Let me say to you," proceeded Tarrant, "that while your attitude may serve in a mongrel community like New Orleans, it will not be tolerated here." Anthony was silent, but Whitaker saw his rigid jaw, and noted his back hunch as the great muscles grew tight. "For the last time," said Tarrant, "will you--" "One moment, please," said a hard, quiet voice. The duelist turned, and saw the mask-like face of Weir, and a pair of eyes that were as cold as ice. "I would advise, Mr. Tarrant," said Weir, "that you carry this matter no further. When the facts are known, it will be generally seen that you cannot require any action from this gentleman except that which he is giving you." The eyes of Tarrant seemed to dart flame. "What! What!" breathed Whitaker in Anthony's ear. "He'll not dare face Weir! He'll not dare!" But before it was made clear what was in Tarrant's mind he was surrounded by a sudden surge of people. There was a hubbub of voices; doors slammed, other people hurried forward; there were oaths and bitter vows, and the pleading of the tavern's people for order. Then Tarrant was led away. Weir bowed to Anthony in return for some word of thanks, and turned back to Dr. King. Whitaker, a little later, with a most leisurely air, settled the bill; then he and Anthony got up, passed through the staring groups about the tables, and left the place. As the dandy was parting from Anthony at the door of the Half Moon he said: "Well, I think Weir has ended the matter as far as you are concerned; for, once he's pronounced a judgment on a thing of this kind, no one will think of taking it otherwise. He's an authority. And it will be easier for you, too. As it stood, though I think you were right, you'd have had an extraordinary position to maintain." "I am much in Mr. Weir's debt," said Anthony. Whitaker nodded. "When I heard his voice," he said, "I knew that was the end of it. No matter what Tarrant's state of mind, he'd never try to face down Weir." "Why?" asked Anthony. "Well, any man who knows Weir properly--and Tarrant does, for he once sailed under him--would not care to measure skill with him in a struggle. Tarrant is a swift, courageous blade, and like a whip for giving offense or taking it. But Weir is of another kind. He has something in him," and Whitaker shook his head, "that most rufflers, no matter how desperate, fear." * * * * *