He knew the signs of impending danger.

He hurried round, and said, "Come, come; I'm going to shut up! Time to go home; time to go home!" The three men at the counter did not move.

As they stood facing each other the brute fury kindled more and more fiercely in each one of them.
"We're Jim and Dick, and Ned's asleep yonder on the bench; and we're come to drink a glass with yer, Honorable Abel Newt!" said Dick, in a sneering tone.

"It's we what did your business for ye.

What yer going to do for us ?" There was a menacing air in his eye as he glanced at Abel, who felt himself quiver with impotent, blind rage.
"I dun--dun--no ye!" he said, with maudlin dignity.
The men pressed nearer.
"Time to go home! Time to go home!" quavered the liquor-seller; and Ned opened his eyes, and slowly raised his huge frame from the bench.
"What's the row ?" asked he of his comrades.
"The Honorable Abel Newt's the row," said Jim, pointing at him.
There was something peculiarly irritating to Abel in the pointing finger.
Holding by the counter, he raised his hand and struck at it.
Ned rolled his body off the bench in a moment.
"For God's sake!" gasped the little liquor-seller.
Jim and Dick stood hesitatingly, glaring at Abel.