"Not at all. Colonial manners, South Sea manners if you will, and very necessary manners for dealing with a ruffian such as you are."
"I'll kill you for this," muttered Jadby, sinking back into his chair.
"With your little gun?" taunted Prelice pleasantly. "I hope you'll shoot straighter. I never saw so rotten a shot."
"I can do more than shoot."
"Yes—you can bark."
"And bite too. See here, I asked you here to tell you, in the presence of Horace, that if you don't stop meddling with things which do not concern you, I'll disgrace your uncle."
Prelice never winced. He had a kind of idea that something of this sort was forthcoming, and merely laughed aggravatingly. "Which uncle?" said he, calmly. "I have two or three."
"Mr. Simon Haken."
"Oh indeed." Prelice turned to Horace. "Are you on my side, or on the side of these blackmailers?" he demanded.
Madame Marie arose furiously. "I am not a blackmailer," she cried, and her deep-toned voice became shrill with anger. "I did not want to say anything, and if Felix does not swear to give up this girl, I shall refuse to speak out."