Gifford Woodhouse's hand closed like a vise upon his collar.

There were no words.
Dick's struggles were as useless as beating against a rock; his maddest efforts could not shake off that relentless hand.

Gifford half pushed, half carried, him to the door, and in another moment Dick Forsythe found himself flung like a snapping cur in the mud and rain of Mr.Denner's garden.
He gathered himself up, and saw Gifford standing in the doorway, as though to offer him a chance of revenge.
"Damn you!" he screamed, furious with passion.

"I'll pay you for this! I--I"-- He choked with rage, and shook his fist at the motionless figure on the steps.

Then, trembling with impotent fury, oaths stumbling upon his lips, he turned and rushed into the gathering darkness.
Gifford watched him, and then the door swung shut, and he went back to Mr.Denner's library.