“I’ll ’damn you,’ you muck! Take that!”
A resounding slap sounded as a hand like leather met the man’s face. Edith screamed.
“We—arranged—it—this afternoon,” gasped the man.
Jim flung him to the floor and advanced on the pallid Edith. She retreated before him. He was about to clasp her when a voice rang out.
“Hands up!”
He swung round to find his late victim brandishing a revolver. An ugly leer crossed his face. He evidently meant business. Jim stared at the revolver.
“Put ’em up or I’ll drill you. I can plead the unwritten law. I’ve got you now, my buck-jumping desperado.”
Jim coolly blew his nose.
“Put ’em up!”