Mrs. Rowe was amazed and terrified by the fiend she had conjured up in the man. He seized the table, and looked a giant in the mighty expression of his iron will.
"Lay that roll upon the table—or I'll shiver it into a thousand pieces—and then—and then——Am I to say more?"
Mrs. Rowe fell into a chair. Mr. Charles was at her in an instant, and had possession of the notes. The poor woman had swooned.
He rang the bell—Jane appeared.
"Look after her," said Mr. Charles, his eyes flaming, as they fell on the unconscious figure of Mrs. Rowe. "But let me out, first."
"You'll kill me with fright, that you will. What have you done to your own——"
"Mind your own business. A smell of salts'll put her right enough."
Mr. Charles was gone.
"And what a sweet gentleman he can be, when he likes," said Jane.