"Yes—but I shall not only hold it near you," said Tom: "I shall also fire it—unless you instantly, and without noise, hand me over that pocket-book which you have about you."
"Captain Sparks!" ejaculated the trembling young man: "this passes a joke. Come, now——"
"I never was more serious in my life," interrupted Rainford sharply. "Give me the pocket-book; or——"
And the sharp click of the pistol, as Tom cocked it, sounded like a death-warrant upon the cowardly boaster's ears. In fact, he sate paralysed—motionless—speechless upon his horse, at a loss how to act.
"Come, be quick!" cried Rain, seizing him by the collar of his coat: "I have no time for any of your nonsense."
"You—you—can't—mean——" stammered the young man, "that—you——"
"Yes—I mean that I am a highwayman, if you like to call me so," interrupted Tom impatiently: "and so give me the pocket-book."
Curtis obeyed with trembling hand and sinking heart.
"And now," said Tom, as the sounds of the trampling of a horse announced that the groom was approaching, "one word of caution! You are going to drag a young lady into a match most unwelcome to her. Beware how you accomplish her unhappiness by forcing her to accept as a husband such a contemptible boaster and arrant liar as you are: beware, I say—or you will see more than you like of Captain Sparks."
Having thus spoken, Rainford turned his horse round, and galloped away with lightning-speed.