Standing with his foot on the floor of the French Cross hall, Captain White easily imagined himself a champion for the ladies of the house. It was his duty to frighten away this intruder who had been leading the younger and more foolish of the ladies into by and forbidden paths of unlawful curiosity. "Better give up this little affair," he said, persuasively. The detective easily lost his temper. However, he controlled himself, and set his foot on the door-sill. Captain White gave him a playful tap on the shoulder. "Don't come again. As a friend I advise you." The detective stopped. Short as was his time, and prejudicial as it might be to his interests, he would love to punish this little whipper-snapper of a man. "Get out," he said, unexpectedly thrusting forth an elbow in close proximity to Captain White. "Oh!" responded the latter, and one of his elbows flew out with such directness of aim that it sought the detective's hidden ribs with the precision of a dagger. H. Robinson choked and sputtered with rage, yet in the midst of it remembered that it would be madness for him to indulge in an altercation, and clutching his fat hands he sidled down the steps, his good genius telling him not to present the broad target of his back to the teasing companion crowding against him. "That was a low thing for me to do," said Captain White, tauntingly. "You bet it was," returned H. Robinson, with feeling. "I'll do as much for you some day." "Ever hear of the Pope's mule?" asked Captain White, softly. The detective muttered something under his breath, and continued edging toward the poplars of the avenue. "The Pope's mule," went on Captain White, pushing along beside him, "was a peculiar mule. He got mad with a man once, but he couldn't get a kick at him for seven years. Then the kick was a revelation,--to the man of course. Afterward he understood mules better. I blame that mule. He was too patient. He might have kicked some of the man's connections, or his partner in business. That would have scared the man green, and kept him from nagging mules. You can always manage men if you take 'em in time, and are any kind of a decent mule yourself-- Hurry up! what are you crabbing it so slow for?" and he slightly assisted the detective with his shoulder. H. Robinson hastened his steps. He felt strangely calm; he was forgiving this man. "We might be brothers or twin dogs in this lockstep," said Captain White, affably. This remark was comparatively unoffensive, yet it caused something like lightning to dance before the eyes of the fat man. His wrath blazed high and fierce, and wheeling around he whacked Captain White soundly over the head with the small cane he carried. "Whew!" ejaculated Captain White, delightedly, and drawing back he ran at his victim like a combative sheep.