"What's your proposition?"
"Give me your word of honour that you will leave Simeon Deaves' employ, and have no further relations with him or his son."
Evan considered what trap might be concealed behind this seemingly fair offer.
"What will the old miser ever do for you?" the voice went on, "or his slack-twisted son for that matter? Let them stew in their own juice. Give me your word, and you'll be taken home to-night."
"And if I won't?" said Evan.
"Oh, we'll have to keep you prisoner until we have pulled off our big coup. I can't say how long that will be."
Evan said coolly: "Well, I'll see you all damned first."
There was a stir in the room. "Ah!" said the voice that fronted him, coolly. "As a young man of spirit I suppose you feel that is the only possible answer. It's too bad. You may go down-stairs." He called for Aunt Liza.
Evan was returned to his prison on the ground floor.
Aunt Liza said: "Sit down, honey. Be a good boy and let me tie yo' feet together. If you acks ugly I'll have to call the gemmen."