He strolled up to the two. Billy the Tanner eyed him
hungrily.
"The two of you, d'yer 'ear?" he shouted. "And 'ere's just a
flick for the toff to be going on with!"
He delivered a sudden blow at Sir Timothy--a full, vicious,
jabbing blow which had laid many a man of the neighbourhood in
the gutter. To his amazement, the chin at which he had aimed
seemed to have mysteriously disappeared. Sir Timothy himself was
standing about half-a-yard further away. Billy the Tanner was
too used to the game to be off his balance, but he received at
that moment the surprise of his life. With the flat of his hand
full open, Sir Timothy struck him across the cheek such a blow
that it resounded through the place, a blow that brought both the
inner doors ajar, that brought peering eyes from every direction.
There was a moment's silence. The man's fists were clenched now,
there was murder in his face. Sir Timothy stepped on one side.
"I am not a fighter," he said coolly, leaning back against the
marble table. "My friend will deal with you."
Billy the Tanner glared at the newcomer, who had glided in
between him and Sir Timothy.
"You can come and join in, too," he shouted to Sir Timothy.
"I'll knock your big head into pulp when I've done with this
little job!"
The bully knew in precisely thirty seconds what had happened to
him.
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