"Have done," bellowed Toutou with a sudden flame of temper. "Urrr-rr-rrhhh! Am I not the master? I want her, and I shall have her! Go! Go! I say, or you shall behold Toutou's knife."
They evidently went, for we could hear the shuffling of feet, with an undercurrent of muttered curses and objurgations. Hugh started forward, pistol in hand, but I checked him. This was no time for unpremeditated action. There was a moment of silence—and a woman's cry of hatred.
"Leave me alone, you beast! If you touch me, I'll bite you! You can't bind my teeth. Ah—"
It was Betty's voice, and Hugh shook me off and was at the curtain with his hand on the folds before I could reach him. But reach him I did, and another interruption helped me to restrain him. King, his face white and his hands shaking, joined us. Watkins lurked behind us.
"Let me—" gasped Hugh.
"There's plenty of time, you fool," I hissed. "Wait! Somebody—"
I was going to say that somebody might come back, and the somebody cut my sentence in the middle. A door opened, and the voice of Hélène de Cespedes spoke.
"What is this I hear, mon ami?" she asked. "Are you mad? This girl is the spoil of the band. She belongs to all of us. We are holding her for a bigger stake. Shall we let you have her for your own satisfaction? You take too—"
"You are jealous," snarled Toutou. "I say I want her, and I am going to have her. I am tired of women like you."
Hugh, his nerves under control, gently parted the folds of the curtain with his pistol-muzzle. The atrium was brilliantly lighted. He and I could see perfectly. On a divan heaped with cushions lay Betty. Her hands were bound behind her, and her feet were tied loosely. Her hair was rumpled, and her blouse ripped off at the shoulder. But her eyes sparked fire as she stared fearlessly at the monster who stood beside her.