Jimmy squirmed and wriggled, but he could not shake himself free. His kicking feet sent the revolver from the table to the floor, but Jones did not notice it.
Holding Jimmy high in the air with his left hand, with his right he deliberately struck him three heavy blows in the face. Then he let him drop to the floor, where the lad lay unconscious.
“There,” said Jones, “I guess that will settle you.”
“And I guess this will settle you,” came Shirley’s low voice.
Turning suddenly, Jones stepped back. Shirley stood facing him with one outstretched arm, and in her hand she clutched the revolver, which she levelled directly at Jones’ head.
Jumping quickly around the table just as Jones had dropped Jimmy to the floor, Shirley pounced upon the revolver and rose with it in a steady hand, as Jones turned.
“Now,” she said quietly, keeping the weapon levelled squarely at the man’s head, “pick Jimmy up and walk out of here ahead of me.”
Jones hesitated and Shirley’s finger tightened upon the trigger.
“I would advise you to do as I say without delay,” she said.
Jones hesitated for only a second longer; then, stooping over, he lifted the boy up in his arms and walked out the door.