THE eleven-o’clock car was just leaving Monument Square when Mr. Thomas Clyde swung aboard with an ease and agility worthy of a younger and less portly man. Fortune favored him with an unoccupied seat, into which he dropped gratefully. Just in front of him sprawled a heavy-shouldered young man, apparently asleep. Mr. Clyde was unfavorably impressed both by his appearance and by the manner of his breathing, which was as excessive as it was unusual. As the car swung sharply around a curve the young man’s body sagged at the waist, and lopped over toward the aisle. Before Mr. Clyde’s restraining hand could close upon his shoulder, he had tumbled outward to the floor, and lay quiet, with upturned face. There was a stir through the car. “The horrid drunken creature!” exclaimed a black-clad woman opposite Mr. Clyde. “Why do they allow such people on the cars?” The conductor hurried forward, only to find his way blocked by a very tall, slender man who had quietly stepped, from a seat next the window, over an intervening messenger boy and the box he was carrying. The new arrival on the scene of action stooped over the prostrate figure. One glance apparently satisfied him. With a swift, sharp motion he slapped the inert man forcefully across the cheek. The sound of the impact was startlingly loud. The senseless head rolled over upon the left shoulder, only to be straightened out by another quick blow. A murmur of indignation and disgust hummed and passed, and the woman in black called upon the conductor to stop the assault. But Mr. Thomas Clyde, being a person of decision and action, was before the official. He caught the assailant’s arm as it swung back again. “Let him alone! What do you mean by beating a helpless man that way!” “Do you know more about this affair than I do?” The crisp query was accompanied by a backward thrust of the tall man’s elbow which broke Mr. Clyde’s hold, and—smack! smack!—the swift double blow rocked the victim’s head again. This time the man groaned. The car was in an uproar. Mr. Clyde instantly and effectively pinned the tall man’s elbows from behind. Some one pulled the bell, and the brakes ground, throwing those forward who had pressed into the aisle. Against this pressure, Mr. Clyde, aided by the conductor, began dragging his man backward. The stranger was helpless to resist this grip; but as he was forced away he perpetrated a final atrocity. Shooting out one long leg, he caught the toe of his boot under the outstretched man’s jawbone and jerked the chin back. This time, the object of the violence not only groaned, but opened his eyes. “I’ll have you in jail for that!” panted Mr. Clyde, his usually placid temper surging up. Other passengers began to lift the victim. “Drop him!” snapped the tall man, with such imperative decisiveness, that the helping hands involuntarily retracted. “Let him lie, you fools! Do you want to kill him?”