He rose as he spoke, and planted one foot upon my chest. Then catching the pocket-knife thrown to him by one of the men at the door, he opened it with a great deal of show and menace, bending down to stare savagely in my eyes as he whetted the blade upon the boot resting on my chest.
Of course I was a good deal alarmed, but I knew all the while that this was all show and that the great ruffian was trying to frighten me. I was in a desperately bad state, in an evil place, but it was broad daylight, and people had seen me come in, so that I did not for a moment think he would dare to kill me. All the same, though, I could not help feeling a curious nervous kind of tremor run through my frame as he flourished the knife about and glared at me as if pondering as to what he should do next.
“I wish Ike were here,” I thought; and as I did so I could not help thinking how big and strong he was, and how little he would make of seizing this great cowardly ruffian by the throat and making him let me go.
“Now, then,” he cried, “out wi’ that there money.” For answer, I foolishly showed him where it was by clapping my hand upon my pocket, when, with a grin of satisfaction, he tore my hand away, thrust in his great fingers, and dragged it out, spat on the various coins, and thrust them in his own pocket.
“What d’yer say?” he cried, bending down again towards me.
“The police shall make you give that up,” I panted.
“Says we’re to spend this here in beer, mates,” he said, grinning, while the woman stood with her eyes half shut and her arms folded, looking on.
The two men at the door laughed.
“Now, then,” said the big fellow, “since he’s come out genteel-like with his money, I don’t think I’ll give him the knife this time. Get up with yer, and be off while your shoes are good.”
He took his great boot off my chest, and I started up.