“I’ve been very easy with mine,” his companion returned. “She’ll not hand me one.” However, he took care not to loosen the shawl from her arms. “There you are, my lady, I hope you’ve not been greatly inconvenienced.”
“What do you mean by this outrage?” said Davila.
“Don’t forget, Bill!—mum’s the word!” the chief cautioned.
“At least, you can permit us to sit on the floor of the car,” said Elaine. “Whatever may be your scheme, it’s scarcely necessary to hold us in this disgusting position.”
“Will you make no effort to escape?” the chief asked.
“No!”
“I reckon that is a trifle overstated!” he laughed. “What about you, Miss Carrington?”
Davila did not answer—contenting herself with a look, which was far more expressive than words.
“Well, we will take pleasure in honoring your first request, Miss Cavendish.”
He caught up a piece of rope, passed it around her arms, outside the shawl, tied it in a running 285 knot, and quietly lifted her from his lap to the floor.