Rosenthall answered their shrieks with a roar for silence; the
woman with the bath-sponge hair swore at him shrilly in return;
the place became a Babel impossible to describe. I remember
wondering how long it would be before the police appeared.
Purvis and the ladies were for calling them in and giving me in
charge without delay. Rosenthall would not hear of it. He swore
that he would shoot man or woman who left his sight. He had had
enough of the police. He was not going to have them coming there
to spoil sport; he was going to deal with me in his own way.
With that he dragged me from all other hands, flung me against a
door, and sent a bullet crashing through the wood within an inch
of my ear.
"You drunken fool! It'll be murder!" shouted Purvis, getting in
the way a second time.
"Wha' do I care? He's armed, isn't he? I shot him in
self-defence. It'll be a warning to others. Will you stand
aside, or d'ye want it yourself?"
"You're drunk," said Purvis, still between us. "I saw you take a
neat tumblerful since you come in, and it's made you drunk as a
fool. Pull yourself together, old man. You ain't a-going to do
what you'll be sorry for."
"Then I won't shoot at him, I'll only shoot roun' an' roun' the
beggar. You're quite right, ole feller. Wouldn't hurt him.
Great mishtake.
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