"If Morrow catches him pawing all over his wife, there’ll be trouble. And Lydia Dyson’s not the woman to lift her little finger to avert it. She has a theory that ’Big Burley’ is a sort of twentieth century edition of the Cave Man, a theory she is not above putting to the proof. Husband or no husband, a big scene is nectar and ambrosia to her." He looked anxiously back at Charlotte Beecher’s group. "Let’s go away from here," he said, taking her arm with protective tenderness. "Shall we go back to the tent?" "I’d like to take you much further than that. You are too wonderful and genuine to fit into this hothouse crowd." Janet liked his pretty speeches, but she had not yet had her fill of the carnival of pleasure. Claude’s fears were only too speedily realized. Hardly had he returned Janet to her gypsy tent, than shouts and screams ascended from the sculptress’ quarter. Claude hastened to the spot and found two knots of men pulling Burley away from Lydia’s husband and heightening the disorder in the act. The commotion now took a new turn. Burley had not forgotten the man who had cold-shouldered him out of Janet’s way several times. As soon as he laid eyes on Claude and observed him assisting Charlotte Beecher in a feverish effort to save her putty models, his rage reached its climax. Every ounce of his bulky weight was put into a titanic pull that jerked him loose from those who restrained him. Using his momentary freedom to snatch up the little bust of Robert, he flung it at Claude’s head. "No diamond shark can come butting in here," he shouted, in a purple fury. The bust went far wide of its mark. But not the taunt. It stung Claude into sudden violence, so that he sprang towards Burley with the object of thrashing him. Thirty or forty people having now been drawn into the melee, however, he was saved the ignominy of a public brawl. At the height of the turmoil Claude’s arm was clasped by an iron hand. It was the hand of a tall immaculate man who spoke to him in a low calm voice. "A word of warning, Mr. Fontaine," he said, urging him away from the fracas. "Get your friends out of here at once! Detectives are about to raid the place." "Detectives! Are you one?" asked Claude, more or less bewildered. "No, not particularly," was the whimsical reply of the stranger, who then moved decisively away and evaporated as suddenly as he had turned up. As soon as Claude rallied his wits, he acted swiftly. He persuaded Charlotte Beecher, who happened to be near, to follow him; and then took the shortest cut to the gypsy tent, where Janet greeted his return with a happy cry of relief. Excitedly he warned her of the raid, and urged her to lose no time in preparing to leave with him. She obeyed, not without a pang of regret.