She soon found, however, that the evening's work and excitement had tired her, and asked to be taken home.
"I'll go and get the limousine around," said Arthur.

"That new chauffeur is a stupid fellow.

By the time you've managed in this jam to get your wraps I shall be ready.

Come down in the elevator and I'll meet you at the Thirty-second street entrance." As he reached the street a man--an ordinary servant, to judge from his appearance--ran into him full tilt, and when they recoiled from the impact the fellow with a muttered curse raised his fist and struck young Weldon a powerful blow.

Reeling backward, a natural anger seized Arthur, who was inclined to be hot-headed, and he also struck out with his fists, never pausing to consider that the more dignified act would be to call the police.
The little spurt of fistcuffs was brief, but it gave Mershone, who stood in the shadow of the door-way near by, time to whisper to a police officer, who promptly seized the disputants and held them both in a firm grip.
"What's all this ?" he demanded, sternly.
"That drunken loafer assaulted me without cause" gasped Arthur, panting.
"It's a lie!" retorted the man, calmly; "he struck me first." "Well, I arrest you both," said the officer.
"Arrest!" cried Arthur, indignantly; "why, confound it, man, I'm--" "No talk!" was the stern command.