“Go away, Harvey!” cried Nellie, placing Fairfax between herself and the intruder.
“Don’t do that!” growled the big man, sharply. “Do you suppose I want him shooting holes through me in order to get at you?”
“Is he going to shoot?” wailed one of the women, dropping the wineglass she had been holding poised near her lips all this time. The tinkle of broken glass and the douche of champagne passed unnoticed. “For God’s sake, let me get out of here!”
“Keep your seats, ladies and gents,” said Harvey, hastily, beginning to show signs of confusion. “I just dropped in to see Nellie for a few minutes. Don’t let me disturb you. She can step into the parlour, I guess. They’ll excuse you, Nellie.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” snapped Nellie, 163 noting the change in him. “Go away or I’ll have a policeman called.”
He grinned. “Well, if you do, he’ll catch me with the goods,” he said, mysteriously.
“The goods?” repeated Nellie.
“Do you want to see it?” he asked, fixing her with his eyes. As he started to withdraw his hand from his overcoat pocket, a general cry of alarm went up and there was a sudden shifting of positions.
“Don’t do that!” roared two or three of the men in a breath.
“Keep that thing in your pocket!” commanded Fairfax, huskily, without removing his gaze from the arm that controlled the hidden hand.