"That's enough of that," said Garrison quietly. "I came for
Dorothy—whom you dared to carry away."
"You—you—you're mistaken," said Theodore, making a most tremendous effort at calmness, with his face as white as death. "She isn't here."
"Don't lie. Your father has given the facts away," said Garrison. "I want her—and I want her now."
"Look here," said Theodore, rapidly regaining his rage, "if you think you can come to my house like this——" He was making a move as if to slip upstairs—perhaps for a gun.
Garrison pulled his revolver without further parley.
"Stay where you are! Up with your hands! Don't either of you make a move that I don't order, understand? I said I'd come to take my wife away."
"For Heaven's sake, don't shoot!" begged old Robinson. "Don't shoot!"
"You fool—do you think I'd bring her here?" said Theodore, trying to grin, but putting up his hands. "Put away your gun, and act like a man in his senses, or I'll have you pulled for your pains."
"You've done talking enough—and perhaps I'll have just a word to say about pulling, later on," said Garrison. "In the meantime, don't you open your head again, or you'll get yourself into trouble."
He raised his voice and shouted tremendously: