"By gad, sir, get out of here," he admonished, "or I'll very soon have the concierge throw you out!"
"You?" asked the stranger, with a belligerent glare.
"Exactly!" Ainsworth answered emphatically. He looked as if he would quite gladly exempt the concierge from consideration and perform the operation himself.
Trascott had been roaming the room in search of an hotel servant who could lead this obstinate fellow away; there being none about, however, he compromised on a marker and returned to the intruder.
He still concentrated his attention on the lawyer with that same belligerent glare, though in his eyes a rising flicker of apprehension betrayed the inward reflection that he had somehow caught a Tartar in this smooth-faced, perfectly-fed man with coat off and billiard-cue in hand.
"You're Britton?" he inquired in a thick, heavy voice.
"I'm nothing of the sort," the irate lawyer returned.
The stranger took a step nearer and leaned his hip against the billiard-table.
"You deny it?" he snarled vindictively. "The assistant concierge informed me that you were Britton."
Ainsworth flourished the cue in his hand suggestively.
"Then the assistant concierge is an ass, like yourself," he said. "There are two of you, and this hotel is no place for such a team."
Trascott pushed forward the marker he had procured.
"Come, monsieur," said the marker. "I think there are better places than this for you."
The stranger whirled and savagely struck away the persuading fingers with which the polite Frenchman had grasped his arm.
"Look out for yourself," he stormed, "or I'll have the manager pack you off to-morrow, my fine fellow. Let me tell you that you can't turn men of my standing into the street. I have engaged rooms and paid for them in advance, and I'll go where I d-d please in this hotel-and do what I please also!"
"No, you won't, my friend," warned Ainsworth, tapping him on the shoulder with quiet determination. "You won't come in here twice to insult me and interrupt my play. Just keep that in your muddled mind!"
"I was informed that you were a certain Britton I was searching for," said the other bluntly, in the spirit of rude apology.
"Do I look like Britton?" cried the lawyer, testily. "I stand five feet six, while Britton stands six feet one. I weigh one hundred and fifty pounds; Britton weighs two hundred and ten. Britton dances in the ballroom with the ladies and brings them ices, but I play billiards with a curate. I ask you again, do I resemble him? No, you say. And I'll tell you something else, too! Britton wouldn't have suffered your impudence for this length of time. He's a quick-blooded beggar, and he'd have jolly well twisted your neck by now."