“We shall see about that,” retorted Frank, grimly. He parted the excited crowd and sprang past the threshold of the dismantled door. His eyes flashed as he took a glance about the place. A waste basket had been kicked to the other side of the room, littering the place from end to end. A file cabinet had been upset against his desk. Packages of circulars ready for the mail had been hurled pell-mell against a partition. The author of all this reckless riot was just now pulling at some temporary shelves crossing a corner of the room, holding boxes of envelopes. All came down with a crash as Frank shouted sternly: “Stop that--what are you doing?” “Huh!” growled the worker of all this mischief. “I’m cleaning out this place.” He was a husky, big-boned farmer-looking man of middle age. Frank saw that he had a wicked eye. He also discerned that the fellow had been drinking heavily. The stranger put his foot across a wicker basket and crushed it to splinters. “What--what you got to say about it,” he demanded, facing on Frank. The big mailing table stood between them. The fellow leaned upon it as he stared insolently and savagely at Frank. “I happen to be the proprietor of this place,” remarked Frank. “Whoop! you are?” yelled the man in a sort of frantic joy. “You’re the mail order shark, are you? Here’s luck. Better than smashing your traps. Say, I’m going to eat you!” The man made a pounce around the table to catch Frank. His big fists warned the latter. The fellow in his present condition was positively dangerous, and was four times as big and strong as Frank. “Hold on,” cried Frank, seeking to temporize, but still keeping his distance by following the table and keeping its broad surface between them. “What do you mean by this riot and destruction?” “Let me get you once, oh, let me just get my hands on you once,” grated out the man, with a savage crunching of his teeth, “and I’ll tell you all about it. Won’t come to time, eh? Then--I’ll come to you!” Now excited, alarmed boyish faces peered in at the door and window. “Run for it, Newton,” advised a quick voice. “Call the police--there’ll be murder done here soon,” gasped another voice. The stranger had sprung to the top of the table, poised to next spring upon Frank and put a stop to his retreating tactics. He staggered as he tried to hold his footing. Frank acted quickly. Jumping to the farther end of the table he seized its edge, gave it a lift and sent the troublesome intruder sliding off his balance on a sharp slant. Crash! the fellow struck the half-shattered front window and went through it headlong. CHAPTER XXV TROUBLE BREWING Frank was astonished at the ease and rapidity with which he had dumped his troublesome visitor clear out of the office. “Good for you Newton!” hailed an approving chorus of voices. “Look out for him!” “No, he’s got all he wants.”