"No." Very quietly came Jake's answer. "I have come to see you—alone."
Saltash lighted his cigarette, and blew a careless cloud of smoke. "Are you proposing to shoot me?" he asked, after a pause.
"No," said Jake grimly. "Shooting's too good for you—men like you."
Saltash laughed, and blew another cloud of smoke. "That may be why I have survived so long," he remarked. "I don't see the horsewhip either. Jake, my friend, you are not rising to the occasion with becoming enthusiasm. Any good offering you a drink to stimulate your energies?"
"None whatever," said Jake, still very quietly. "I don't go—till I have what I came for—that's all. Neither do you!"
"I—see!" said Saltash.
An odd little gleam that was almost furtive shone for a second in his eyes and was gone. He turned and crossed the room to Toby.
"My dear," he said, "I think this business will be more quickly settled if you leave us."
She looked at him piteously. He took her lightly by the arm, and led her to a door leading to an adjoining room. "By the time you have smoked one cigarette," he said, "I shall be with you again."
She turned with an impulsive attempt to cling to him. "You'll—keep me?" she said, through trembling lips.