But her bluff was of no avail as she was soon aware when once more the man salaamed with a world of mockery in the action.
"But Mademoiselle has but now run away from her friends! No?—she has but little—oh! very little money!—yes?—and nowhere to go—it is for that that I have thrown my protection around her!"
Jill thought hard for a moment, wondering how much the man knew of her escapade.
"How do you know? Who told you I had no money? I have a friend as it happens———!"
"Mademoiselle has no friend but me," interrupted the man; "she left them at the hotel when she went to take a walk."
And Jill retreated step by step before him as he came closer still, his voice sinking to a whisper, his hand within an inch of her wrist.
"I will not harm you because you are oh, very beautiful! You are a feast of loveliness and I—I am hungry!"
But still the little smile twisted the corner of Jill's red mouth as she looked unflinchingly into the brown eyes in the depths of which smouldered a something which was not good to look upon.
"I suppose you have stolen my dressing-case too," was her next, somewhat irrelevant remark. "Men of your type I dare say can find a use for everything from women to hair-pins. You black dog, who are you?"
Red murder flared in the room for one moment and then died down, leaving a little smoke cloud of uncertainty in the man's mind.