But Haworth, realizing that his appearance would attract attention—for, though he continually wiped his face, it went on bleeding—turned off the most direct route through the well-lighted business district of Egleston Square and Jamaica Plain, into some of the quiet streets to the south. Even at that he had to pass through one of the lesser business neighborhoods where there were shops with lighted windows and people about on the sidewalks. It was just along here that Findlay, not finding Haworth on the route he’d expected him to take and turning off into side streets running parallel thereto, came up with him. Shouting threats and menacing him with his revolver, he strode along unsteadily by his side, attracting the attention of everybody within hearing. Quite a few who happened to be close at hand ran into shops or behind trees. Haworth’s bleeding face added to the general alarm. The young man suddenly turned on Findlay with a low-voiced warning. “Keep away from me or you’ll get into trouble!” he said, and instantly turned and walked as before. “Trouble!” Augustus screamed. “You talk to me about trouble do you, you —— —— ——! What in hell d’ye suppose _you’re_ going to get? I’ve been waiting for this chance for a year, by God! for more’n a year, by God! an’ now we’ll see where you get off, you —— —— ——!” And on he went, letting out the foulest language he could lay his tongue to, with Haworth paying no further attention to him; and the two disappeared down a poorly lighted road which took them in the direction of Franklin Park. After this extraordinary and rather terrifying scene had shifted itself well past the little area of shops and light, several of those who had witnessed it came out from their places of refuge and a hurried consultation was held, the result of which was a telephonic report of the affair to police station 13 in Jamaica Plain, and assurance from that quarter that a couple of men would be sent over. One man who’d been a spectator, had sufficient curiosity to follow Haworth and Augustus at a safe distance, and was joined later by another who saw them pass a couple of blocks further on. Haworth, dogged by the foul-mouthed nephew of old Michael Cripps, turned in at the mansion gate and went up the dark and weed-grown drive to the house. They mounted the steps of the front portico together, but when Augustus made as if to follow him in, Haworth suddenly turned on him. “You can’t come in here,” he said. “We’ll see whether I can or not!” Findlay shouted, and began to fight his way past.