Before he could hurl it Phinny threw his glass, striking Lander on the arm but doing no harm.
"You'll fight, you sneak!" roared Lander.
"Oh, my friend, my friend," groaned Papa Clair, seizing Lander's arm and preventing him from leaping at his enemy. "Such roughness! Such lack of wit! I am embarrassed!"
"You heard him!" choked Lander, trying to throw off the detaining hand.
"You've played into his hands. You've challenged him," sighed the old man, his long, slim fingers contracting like circlets of steel. "It could have been so pretty. Now it becomes a brawl.… But wait! He had no right to throw the glass and make you challenge him. You gave the first affront when you rose to hurl your glass. Hell's devils! Does he think to conduct this like a keelboat fight? I will straighten it out. I will make his friends see it in the true light. He must challenge you, and you shall have choice of weapons."
He rose with a knife held back of his arm and took a step toward Phinny, when Lander swept him behind him, hoarsely objecting:
"No, no. Let it finish as it began." Then to
