At her words an exultant thrill leaped through Clifford. She had had her choice—and had chosen the way of her own destruction!
Mary put an arm under Jack’s shoulders. “Stop that!” cried Nina, in sudden fury, dropping the telephone receiver and clutching the unconscious Jack, so that he was torn away from Mary’s arm. With energetic fury she turned on Loveman. “Peter Loveman, make her stop! You promised me, if I’d come into this, you’d fix up a marriage between Jack and me!”
“Shut up, Nina!” Loveman cut in sharply, in half panic. “Mary,” he cried, seizing her arm, “come on—let’s leave her—quick!”
But the lithe Hilton did not depend upon the influence of mere words. From somewhere out of his elegant person he drew a small pistol, and this he thrust against Mary’s side.
“Get out of this,” he snapped, “or this gun goes off! And we’ll all swear it was suicide. The gun’s a lady’s size, and suicides are common in joints like this. Get out!”
Mary did not quiver—she looked Hilton squarely in his handsome, evil face. At that instant Clifford stepped swiftly into the room and closed the light door behind him. The next instant he had wrenched the pistol from Hilton’s hand, and pocketed it, and had seized both Hilton and Loveman by their collars.
“Cut out that rough stuff, Hilton, or I finish you off here!” he said. “And so, Loveman, I’ve got you at it again?”
The little lawyer twisted about—gave Clifford a startled stare—and then forced a smile intended to be tolerant, but which was sickly. “Why, Bob, I don’t know a thing about this—”
“Shut up!” snapped Clifford.
He turned to Mary, who was still bewildered by his sudden appearance, and again the leaping thrill went through him. “Mary, you’ve gone through this great! Great, I tell you. And these people—don’t worry about them another minute. You’ve won out!”