temper encounters one of those masked fools maddened by drink!"
He sat down and hastily wrote a note of warning to Butler without a signature, tore it up in anger and threw it in his waste basket.
"Bah! it's nonsense!" he muttered in rage. "Her father is in no danger. The trouble is with me—I'm jealous, jealous, jealous! of the men who can see her. I want to dance with her myself. I'm mad with a passion I dare not breathe aloud."
Yet the longer he brooded over the thing, the keener became his sense of its dangers and the more oppressive the fear that it would result in a tragedy.
He sat down and rewrote his warning to the Judge, crossed the street and dropped the letter in the post office.
