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 quiet for a sign of weakness or lack of courage, he went on, “But you—don’t forget who you are…. A nobody and worse. You ought to be in prison….”

Angus’s face went gray, his jaw protruded and set, and his eyes smouldered with a dangerous light. He clutched the Judge’s shoulders, jerking the man toward him, close to him. His face was menacing…. Angus Burke was on the point of losing control of himself….

“Stop!” he said chokingly. “Be still…. I won’t have it…. You—”

Crane struggled to free himself, but Angus was the stronger; as he was powerful enough to hold the man’s body, so his spirit was strong enough to hold the man’s eyes, to dominate him, to intimidate him…. Suddenly he recovered himself, on the verge, as it were, and pushed the Judge away from him as one who fights off a temptation. He sat down in his chair. “You understand…. It’s not safe…. I don’t want to hurt you—or anybody….” Then he breathed deeply once. “If you want to talk business now, all right. But don’t mention Angus Burke….”

The boy continued to stare into the Judge’s face; Crane’s eyes fell, his knees felt queerly weak. He was cowed…. Angus picked up the note again and held it out.