But he had not lost his delight in conflict; he was physically no coward; and they were all edified to see this when the raiders dashed into the resort of Nick Spoletti.
Nick, who conducted a bar in a basement, had been a prize-fighter; he was cool and quick. He heard the crusaders coming and shouted to his customers, "Beat it! Side door! I'll hold 'em back!"
He met the first of the policemen at the bottom of the steps, and dropped him with the crack of a bottle over his head. The next tripped over the body, and the others halted, peering, looking embarrassed, drawing revolvers. But Elmer smelled battle. He forgot holiness. He dropped his Bible, thrust aside two policemen, and swung on Nick from the bottom step. Nick slashed at his head, but with a boxer's jerk of the neck Elmer slid away from the punch, and knocked out Nick with a deliberately murderous left.
"Golly, the parson's got an awful wallop!" grunted the sergeant, and Bill Kingdom sighed, "Not so bad!" and Elmer knew that he had won . . . that he would be the hero of Zenith . . . that he was now the Sir Lancelot as well as the William Jennings Bryan of the Methodist Church.
After two more raids he was delivered at his home by patrol wagon, and left with not entirely sardonic cheers by the policemen.
Cleo rushed to meet him, crying, "Oh, you're safe! Oh, my dear, you're hurt!"
His cheek was slightly bleeding.
In a passion of admiration for himself so hot that it extended even to her, he clasped her, kissed her wetly, and roared, "It's nothing! Oh, it went great! We raided five places—arrested twenty-seven criminals—took them in every sort of horrible debauchery—things I never dreamed could exist!"
"You poor dear!"
There was not enough audience, with merely Cleo, and the maid peering from the back of the hall.
"Let's go and tell the kids. Maybe they'll be proud of their dad!" he interrupted her.
"Dear, they're asleep—"
