Spike tenderly caressed his nose with a glove and tried to look down upon it.

The swelling already showed to his oblique gaze.
"Say, kid," he demanded, irritably, "what's the big idea?
Is this murder or jest a friendly bout?
You better behave or I'll stop pullin' my punches." It could not be explained to the aggrieved Spike that his opponent had for the moment convinced himself that he faced one of Newbern's best-known business men.
Later he contented himself with observing Lyman Teaford at Niagara Falls.

The fatuous groom stood heedlessly at the cataract's verge.

There was a simple push, and the world was suddenly a better place to live in.
As for his bereaved mate--he meditated her destruction, also, but this was too summary.

It came to him that she had been a lovely and helpless victim of circumstances.