met the glass, and the glass had won; nor did that great Green Overcoat, all sumptuously lined with fur, give a hint of its dread amusement.
The blood was pouring severely from the wound. The Man with the Broken Nose had suffered accidents before; he knew that this might be serious. He lifted his trouser leg, saw the bad gash, and for a moment gently pressed the lips of the wound together.
"It's a jedgment!" he said. "It's a jedgment!" he repeated to himself.
But even so manifest a sign from On High would not deter him from his purpose. He tore from his shirt a strip wherewith to bind his leg, and limped with increasing pain back towards the streets of the town.
He was seeking a house not unknown to him, for it was a place where those who have few friends can always find a friend, the residence of a Mr. Montague, Financier and Master of those mean streets; and as he limped, carrying his booty upon his arm, he cursed.
The morning sun brought him no gladness. The Green Overcoat seemed heavier and heavier with every yard of his way, until at last he stood before a house like any other of
