"Quite like old times!" he commented. "The only difference being, my good
Jake, that on this occasion I have reached the winning-post first."
Jake's look went beyond him to the slight figure by the table. Toby was on her feet. Her face was flushed, but her eyes were wide and defiant. He regarded her steadily for several seconds before, very deliberately, he transferred his attention to Saltash, who nonchalantly awaited his turn, tapping the cigarette on the lid of his case with supreme indifference.
Jake spoke, his voice soft as a woman's, yet strangely dominating. "I should like two minutes alone with you—if you can spare them."
Saltash was smiling. His glance shot towards Toby, and came back to Jake with a certain royal arrogance that held its own without effort. "In other words, you wish—Lady Saltash—to leave us?" he questioned easily.
"I'm not going," said Toby quickly, with nervous decision.
Her hands were tightly clasped in front of her. She stood as one strung to the utmost limit of resistance.
Jake did not again look at her. His eyes were upon Saltash, and they never wavered. "Alone with you," he repeated, with grim insistence.
Saltash regarded him curiously. His mouth twitched mockingly as he put the cigarette between his lips. He held out the case to Jake in mute invitation.
Jake's look remained fixed. He ignored the action, and the case snapped shut in Saltash's hand with a sharp sound that seemed to denote a momentary exasperation. But Saltash's face still retained the monkey-like expression of calculated mischief habitual to it.
"Bunny with you?" he enquired casually, producing a match-box.