It was the night of the ninth day after the Findlays had arrived at the mansion. Augustus during this time, had made what were, for him, supreme efforts to control himself, knowing very well that a great deal depended on it. He and his wife had been taken in and provided with a home free of cost and containing among its other furniture a soft-hearted boob out of whom he could apparently squeeze what money he needed, if he was careful to handle it right. Haworth was certainly an utter fool, but even at that he might be troublesome if once aroused. Though by no means of powerful build, he was a bit too husky to take a chance on. For a while Findlay managed to avoid displays of himself that would be positively objectionable. But as these nine days wore on he seemed to be losing his grip on himself, such as it was. He was coming home later and later each night and making more and more of a disturbance each time he did it. Haworth had several times been awakened in the small hours of the morning by the slamming of doors and the shouting of oaths and lines out of what are called, for want of a worse name, songs. However, as the noise and uproar seemed to subside when Findlay finally got himself upstairs, Haworth waited for that relief, though with a sharp agony of pain at the thought of Edith having to endure the presence of the intoxicated loafer. This had been going on for more than a week, and, as I say, growing steadily worse, when a night came that the raucous clamor failed to diminish on Findlay’s getting upstairs and into the room that he and his wife occupied. It was somewhat muffled after the door closed, but even then oaths and abuse could be heard, and violent demands for something. Haworth’s room was farther back on the same corridor, and the old-fashioned transom above the door was open. At first he couldn’t make out what the half-crazy sot was trying to get from her, as he was evidently making an effort to keep his voice down; but soon excitement or anger made him raise it, and Haworth could hear his shouted demands for a key to something. Edith was saying nothing. All that could be heard were the threats and imprecations of her husband. Suddenly this stopped, then a quick and frightened, “_Oh no!_” from Edith, followed at once by deeper threats and in the midst of them a subdued scream and the sound of the door flung open. Haworth had sprung from his bed at the very instant of Edith’s scream and was through the door and out in the corridor just as she came running out of her room, followed by her husband. He was flourishing a big revolver and lurching this way and that as he came.