I had but an instant to think. Spluttering to himself, my assailant was endeavoring to rise to his feet.
A hasty glance around the room revealed a door partly hidden by a curtain next the mantelpiece. Where it led to I did not know, but concluding that any place would be better than to remain in the library, I tried the door, found it open, and slipped out.
"Stop, stop!" roared Mr. Woodward. "Stop, this instant!"
But I did not stop. I found myself in the dining room, and at once put the long table between us.
"Don't you come any nearer," I called out sharply. "If you do, it may be at the cost of your life."
As I spoke I picked up a fancy silver knife that lay on the table. It had a rough resemblance to a pocket pistol, and gave me the idea of palming it off as such.
"Would you shoot me?" cried the merchant, in sudden terror, as he saw what he supposed was the barrel of a revolver pointed at his head.
"Why shouldn't I?" was the reply. "You have no right to detain me."
"I don't want to detain you. I only want to come to a settlement," he returned lamely.
"And I want nothing more to do with you. I'll give you one minute to show me the way to the front door."