It struck true. But Keudell still wore his hat, and the stiff fiber brim of this served to break somewhat the force of the blow. Yet it could not stop the blinding deluge of water and gravel and madly flopping bodies which cascaded about him. And almost coincident with the crash of the breaking glass came the sound of Keudell's revolver falling to the floor.
Yet, oddly enough, what most held Sadie's attention at the moment was one goldfish which writhed and flopped on Keudell's wide shoulder as he staggered back against the table-edge. She watched it as it danced like a flame down his vest-front and then minuetted with its fellows at his feet, like quavering shreds of sunlight dancing on the water-stained carpet.
She stared in horror as Keudell's heels stamped impartially on these fragile bits of pulsing life and on the crunching fragments of bowl-glass. She saw him grope and flounder about, blinded for a moment by both the blow and the shower about his head.
The next moment, however, he had recovered himself and was stooping to catch up the fallen revolver. At the same instant that his fingers came
