The bully knew in precisely thirty seconds what had happened to him.  So did the crowds who pressed back into the place through the inner door.  So did the barman.  So did the landlord, who had made a cautious appearance through a trapdoor.  Billy the Tanner, for the first time in his life, was fighting a better man.  For two years he had been the terror of the neighbourhood, and he showed now that at least he had courage.  His smattering of science, however, appeared only ridiculous.  Once, through sheer strength and blundering force, he broke down his opponent’s guard and struck him in the place that had dispatched many a man before—­just over the heart.  His present opponent scarcely winced, and Billy the Tanner paid the penalty then for his years of bullying.  His antagonist paused for a single second, as though unnerved by the blow.  Red fire seemed to stream from his eyes.  Then it was all over.  With a sickening crash, Billy the Tanner went down upon the sanded floor.  It was no matter of a count for him.  He lay there like a dead man, and from the two doors the hidden spectators streamed into the room.  Sir Timothy laid some money upon the table.

“This fellow insulted me and my friend,” he said.  “You see, he has paid the penalty.  If he misbehaves again, the same thing will happen to him.  I am leaving some money here with your barman.  I shall be glad for every one to drink with me.  Presently, perhaps, you had better send for an ambulance or a doctor.”

A little storm of enthusiastic excitement, evidenced for the most part in expletives of a lurid note, covered the retreat of Sir Timothy and his companion.  Out in the street a small crowd was rushing towards the place.  A couple of policemen seemed to be trying to make up their minds whether it was a fine night.  An inspector hurried up to them.

“What’s doing in ’The Rising Sun’?” he demanded sharply.

“Some one’s giving Billy the Tanner a hiding,” one of the policemen replied.

“Honest?”

“A fair, ripe, knock-out hiding,” was the emphatic confirmation.  “I looked in at the window.”

The inspector grinned.

“I’m glad you had the sense not to interfere,” he remarked.

Sir Timothy and his companion reached the car.  The latter took a seat by the chauffeur.  Sir Timothy stepped in.  It struck him that Lady Cynthia was a little breathless.  Her eyes, too, were marvellously bright.  Wrapped around her knees was the chauffeur’s coat.

“Wonderful!” she declared.  “I haven’t had such a wonderful five minutes since I can remember!  You are a dear to have brought me, Sir Timothy.”

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Mean?” she laughed, as the car swung around and they glided away.  “You didn’t suppose I was going to sit here and watch you depart upon a mysterious errand?  I borrowed your chauffeur’s coat and his cap, and slunk down after you.  I can assure you I looked the most wonderful female apache you ever saw!  And I saw the fight.  It was better than any of the prize fights I have ever been to.  The real thing is better than the sham, isn’t it?”