But Don Miguel Farrel's arm was
stretched forth also; his long brown fingers closed over the check and
snatched it from the Basque's hand as he murmured soothingly:
"You will have to await your turn, Loustalot. For your bad manners, I
shall destroy this check." And he tore the signature off and crumpled
the little slip of paper into a ball, which he flipped into Loustalot's
brutal face.
The Basque stood staring at him, inarticulate with fury; Don Mike faced
his enemy with a bantering, prescient little smile. Then, with a great
sigh that was in reality a sob, Loustalot abandoned his primal impulse to
hurl himself upon Farrel and attempt to throttle; instead, he ran back to
the customers' desk and started scribbling another check. Thereupon, the
impish Farrel removed the ink, and when Loustalot moved to another
ink-well, Farrel's hand closed over that. Helpless and desperate,
Loustalot suddenly began to weep; uttering peculiar mewing cries, he
clutched at Farrel with the fury of a gorilla. Don Mike merely dodged
round the desk, and continued to dodge until out of the tail of his eye,
he saw the sheriff enter the bank and stop at the cashier's desk.
Loustalot, blinded with tears of rage, failed to see Don Nicolas; he had
vision only for Don Mike, whom he was still pursuing round the customers'
desk.
The instant Don Nicolas served his writ of attachment, the cashier left
his desk, walked round in back of the various tellers' cages, and handed
the writ to the paying teller; whereupon Farrel, pretending to be
frightened, ran out of the bank.
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