"Stand back!" he exclaimed to Sohlberg, who was moaning helplessly.
"Get me a chair, get me a table--anything." The butler ran to obey, but before he could return Cowperwood had found an implement.
"Here!" he said, seizing a long, thin, heavily carved and heavily wrought oak chair which stood at the head of the stairs on the landing. He whirled it vigorously over his head. Smash! The sound rose louder than the screams inside.
Smash! The chair creaked and almost broke, but the door did not give.
Smash! The chair broke and the door flew open. He had knocked the lock loose and had leaped in to where Aileen, kneeling over Rita on the floor, was choking and beating her into insensibility.
Like an animal he was upon her.
"Aileen," he shouted, fiercely, in a hoarse, ugly, guttural voice, "you fool! You idiot--let go! What the devil's the matter with you? What are you trying to do? Have you lost your mind?--you crazy idiot!"
He seized her strong hands and ripped them apart. He fairly dragged her back, half twisting and half throwing her over his knee, loosing her clutching hold. She was so insanely furious that she still struggled and cried, saying: "Let me at her! Let me at her! I'll teach her! Don't you try to hold me, you dog! I'll show you, too, you brute--oh--"
"Pick up that woman," called Cowperwood, firmly, to Sohlberg and the butler, who had entered. "Get her out of here quick! My wife has gone crazy. Get her out of here, I tell you! This woman doesn't know what she's doing. Take her out and get a doctor. What sort of a hell's melee is this, anyway?"
"Oh," moaned Rita, who was torn and fainting, almost unconscious from sheer terror.
"I'll kill her!" screamed Aileen. "I'll murder her! I'll murder you too, you dog! Oh"--she began striking at him--"I'll teach you how to run around with other women, you dog, you brute!"
Cowperwood merely gripped her hands and shook her vigorously, forcefully.
"What the devil has got into you, anyway, you fool?" he said to her, bitterly, as they carried Rita out. "What are you trying to do, anyway--murder her? Do you want the police to come in here?
Stop your screaming and behave yourself, or I'll shove a handkerchief in your mouth! Stop, I tell you! Stop! Do you hear me? This is enough, you fool!" He clapped his hand over her mouth, pressing it tight and forcing her back against him. He shook her brutally, angrily. He was very strong. "Now will you stop," he insisted, "or do you want me to choke you quiet? I will, if you don't.
You're out of your mind. Stop, I tell you! So this is the way you carry on when things don't go to suit you?" She was sobbing, struggling, moaning, half screaming, quite beside herself.
"Oh, you crazy fool!" he said, swinging her round, and with an effort getting out a handkerchief, which he forced over her face and in her mouth. "There," he said, relievedly, "now will you shut up?" holding her tight in an iron grip, he let her struggle and turn, quite ready to put an end to her breathing if necessary.
