through the medium of this man, brother or no brother—checked him. He did not know what it was all about, but the one thing that did stand out clearly in the welter of confused happenings was the girl’s need for his assistance. Whatever might be the rights of the case, he was her accomplice and must behave as such.
“I don’t know what you're talking about,” he said.
The young man shook a larged gloved fist in his face.
“You blackguard!”
A rich, deep, soft, soothing voice slid into the heated scene.
“What’s all this?”
A vast policeman had materialized from nowhere. He stood beside them, a living statue of vigilant authority. One thumb rested easily in his broad belt. The fingers of the other hand caressed lightly a mustache that had caused more heartburnings among the gentler sex than any other two mustaches in the C-division. The eyes above the mustache were stern and questioning.
“What’s all this?”
George liked policemen. He knew the way to treat them. His voice, when he replied, had precisely the correct note of respectful deference which the force likes to hear.
“I really couldn’t say, officer,” he said, with just that air of having in a time of trouble found a kind elder brother to help him out of his difficulties which made the constable his ally on the spot. “I was standing here, when this man suddenly made his extraordinary attack on me. I wish you would ask him to go away.”
