Storri's education--which was wide--did not suffice to cover up in him the barbarian, videlicet, the Tartar--which was wider; and when a trifle uplifted of drink, it was his habit to brag profoundly in purring, snarling, half-challenging tones. Storri boasted most of his thews, which would not have disgraced Goliath. He was at the moment telling a knot of gaping youngsters of monstrous deeds of strength. Storri had crushed horseshoes in his hand; he had rolled silver pieces into bullets between thumb and finger. "See, you children, I will show what a Russian can do!" cried Storri. Storri came over to the fireplace, the rest at his heels. Taking up the poker--a round half-inch rod of wrought iron--he seized it firmly by one end with his left hand and with the right wound it twice about his left arm. The black spiral reached from hand to elbow; when he withdrew his arm the club poker was a Brobdingnagian corkscrew. The youngsters stared wonder-bitten. Then a mighty chatter of compliments broke forth, and Storri swelled with the savage glory of his achievement. Richard, the somber, who did not like noise, shrugged his shoulders. Storri, by the fireplace, caught the shrug and found it offensive. He made towards Richard, and offered the right hand, his white teeth gleaming in a sinister way through the fastnesses of his beard. "Will you try grips with me?" cried Storri loudly. "Will you shake hands Russian fashion?" "No," retorted Richard, all ice and unconcern. "I will not shake your hand Russian fashion." Storri broke into an evil grin that made him look like a black panther. "Some day you must put your fingers into that trap," said he, opening and closing his broad hand. Richard making no return, Storri and the others went back to their decanters. Richard might have said, and would have believed, that he did not like Storri because of a Siberian rudeness and want of breeding. It is to be thought, however, that his antipathy arose rather from having heard the day before Storri's name coupled with that of Dorothy Harley. The Russ was a caller at the Harley house, it seemed, and rumor gave it that he and Mr. Harley were together in speculations. At that Richard hated Storri with the dull integrity of a healthy, normal animal, just as he would have hated any man who raised his eyes to Dorothy Harley; for you are to know that Richard was in a last analysis even more savage than was Storri himself, and withal as jealously hot as a coal of fire. Presently Storri departed, and Richard forgot him in a reverie of smoke. It stood the quarter of three, and Richard took up his walk to the Harleys'. It was no mighty journey, being but two blocks.