"A good `Penang lawyer' is tough enough for most things," muttered the dealer of this deft stroke. "Here, brother, take this," he went on, in an Eastern tongue, thrusting the stick into the stranger's hand. The effect was wondrous. The consciousness of grasping even this much of a weapon seemed to transform the Oriental completely. His tall form seemed to tower, his frame to dilate, as, whirling the tough stick aloft, he shrilled forth a wild, fierce Mohammedan war-cry, bounding, leaping, in a very demoniacal possession, charging those nearest to him as though the stick were a long-bladed, keen-edged tulwar. Whirling it in the air he brought it down with incredible swiftness, striking here and there on head and face, while looking around for more to smite. And then the rabble of assailants began to give way, or try to. "Cops" was the cry that now went up, and immediately thereupon a strong posse of the splendid men of the City Police had forced their way to the scene of disturbance--or very nearly. Crushed, borne along by the swaying crowd, the man who had so effectually aided the distressed Oriental had become separated from his friends. For his foes he cared nothing, and, indeed, these had all they could think of to effect their own retreat, the motive being not so much fear of immediate consequences as the consciousness with many of them that they were desperately wanted by the police in connection with other matters, which would infallibly assert their claims once identity was established. At last, to his relief, he found himself in a side street and outside the crowd. "You're better 'ere, sir," said a gruff voice, whose owner was contemplating him curiously. "Yes, rather. I've been in a bit of a breeze yonder." "So I should say, sir," answered the policeman, significantly. "Thank'ee, sir. Much obliged." "They were mobbing a stranger, and I and some others went to help him." "Was it a Hindian gent, sir, with a high black sort of 'at? I seen him go by here not long since." "Yes. That was the man. Well, I suppose he's all right by now. Good-night, policeman." "Good-night, sir, and thank'ee, sir." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ An hour and a half later one corner of the supper-room in the Peculiar Club was in a state of unwonted liveliness, even for that by no means dull institution, where upwards of a dozen more or less damaged members were consuming devilled bones and champagne. Damaged, in that bunged up eyes and swelled noses--and here and there a cut lip--were in evidence; but all were in the last stage of cheerfulness. "Why isn't Raynier here, I wonder?" was asked. "He? Oh, I expect he went on taking care of that Indian Johnny. He likes those chaps, you know, has to do with them out there. He'll turn up all right--never fear." "Don't know. Don't like losing sight of him," said another.