Not more than half-a-dozen paces separated them, and for answer Dodo walked straight up to him, with arms outstretched so that he could not pass her, screening Jack. She was menacing as a Greek fury, beautiful as the dawn, dominant as the sun.
"You coward and murderer," she said. "Give me that."
For one half-second he stood nerveless and irresolute, his poor sodden wits startled into sobriety by the power and glory of her, and without a moment's hesitation she seized the revolver that was pointed straight at her, and tore it from his hand. By a miracle of good luck it did not go off.
"Out of the house," she cried, "for I swear to you that in another second I will shoot you like a dog. Did you think you would frighten me? Frighten me! you drunken brute."
She stood there like some splendid wild animal at bay, absolutely fearless and irresistible. Without a single word, he turned, and shuffled out into the street again.
"Shut the door," said Dodo to the footman.
Then suddenly and unmistakably she felt the life within her stir, and a start of blinding pain shot through her. So short had been the whole scene that Jack hurrying after her had only just reached her side, when she dropped the revolver, and laid her arms on his shoulders, leaning on him with all her weight.
"Jack, my time has come," she said. "Oh, glory to God, my dear!"
Just as dawn began to brighten in the sky, Dodo's baby was born, and soon made a lusty announcement that he lived. Presently Jack was admitted for a moment just to see his son, and then went out again to wait. It was but a couple of hours afterwards that he was again sent for by a well-pleased nurse.