Jimmy was a lad of discretion. He sat down.
Shirley turned back from the door.
“Now,” said Jones, “I want you to understand that I am not to be trifled with. You are not going to ride Gabriel in the Derby, not if I have to shoot you. Is that plain enough?”
“It’s plain enough,” said Jimmy.
Jones leaned back in his chair and laughed; then he laid the revolver on the table.
“Good,” he said. He turned to Shirley and waved his hand. “You see,” he said, “Jimmy elects to remain here.”
“I don’t believe it,” declared Shirley.
“No, Miss Shirley,” said Jimmy, “I don’t want to remain here, but it looks as though I should have to.”
“You don’t want to, eh?” said Jones angrily. “Well, I’ll make you want to remain.”
Leaning suddenly forward, he threw out his right hand and clutched Jimmy by the collar. With a violent jerk he pulled him from his seat clear across the table.