There had been nothing for it
but the plebeian trolley. Accordingly, when he heard a foreign
voice of feminine timbre and felt a light pressure against his
knee, he only snorted. What he next felt against his knee was the
impact of a half-shove, half-blow, brisk enough to slue him
around. The intruder passed by to the vacant seat, while the now
thoroughly awakened and annoyed Hochwaldian whirled, to find
himself looking into a pair of expressionless brown goggles.
With a snort of fury, the diplomat struck backward. The glasses
and the solemn face behind them dodged smartly. The next moment,
Herr von Plaanden felt his neck encircled by a clasp none the less
warm for being not precisely affectionate. He was pinned.
Twisting, he worked one arm loose.
"Be careful!" warned the cool voice of Polly Brewster, addressing
her defender. "He's trying to draw his sword."
The gogglesome one's grip slid a little lower. The car had now
stopped, and the conductor came forward, brandishing what was
apparently the wand of authority, designed to be symbolic rather
than utile, since at no point was it thicker than a man's finger.
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