"Wait until we hear from Hemming's enemy. I think he'll take a turn before we get out of this," he replied. "He has played poor old Hemming some low tricks before now," he added, and gave Hicks a hint of the trouble in Hemming's past. Hicks passed on and descended to the billiard-room, and O'Rourke paused at the door. He turned the key and stepped into the room. He dodged before his eyes had warned him of danger. The huge fist landed on a point of his left shoulder, and sent him spinning across the room. He recovered himself in time to partially evade the seaman's bull-like rush. Staggered and hurt, he closed with his antagonist, wondering dully if the fellow had broken the cords, or had worked the knots loose. It did not occur to him to call for help. The door had closed behind him. The mariner's huge arms seemed to force his very heart out of its place. The bowed, sturdy legs wrenched at his knees. The hot, evil breath burned against his neck. For a moment the pain of it closed his eyes. He was bent nearly double, and pin-points of light flashed in his brain. Then he recovered his wits and his courage. He twisted himself so that his shoulder caught the sailor's chin. This gave him a chance to breathe, and eased the crushing weight upon his ribs. It was O'Rourke's belief that, in a rough and tumble fight, without knives, and muscles being equal, the gentleman has always the advantage of the plebeian. So once again he settled himself to prove it. But this time the plebeian was unusually desperate. He wanted a diamond, and he hated the man his hands were upon. All his superiors were detestable to his uncouth soul. He had feared O'Rourke before this. Now he felt no fear--only a mad desire to knock the breath out of that well-kept body, and mark with blood the hard-set, scornful face. Then for the coast again, with the stone of fabulous price. For a minute or two O'Rourke played a waiting game. Twice, by his quickness and length of leg, he avoided a bad throw. His back and neck had some close calls. After discovering that he was in better condition than his opponent, he began to force matters. Within ten minutes of his entrance, he knelt upon the sailor's bulky shoulders, and with colourless lips muttered strange oaths. Though his eyes were bright, he was not nice to look at. The original savage glared exultingly from that white face. The sailor lay still, with blood from lips and nose staining the floor, a pitiful and ungainly figure. Presently O'Rourke got to his feet and staggered from the room. Smith caught him just in time to help him to a chair. It had been a big effort for a warm day.