For Schwartz was primed with wine, and maddened by the knowledge that he had been tricked by a girl, a girl who was able to survey his mean soul and appraise its miserable insufficiency. He thought to frighten her by letting the beast in him peep forth at her. Even if she screamed for protection, he counted on either securing the ju-ju or learning its whereabouts before her father could come to her rescue. Then he would explain that he was joking, while Minkie would receive scant sympathy when it became known that she had kept mum as to her possession of an article which he prized so greatly. Of course, he was sure she had the ju-ju, and Minkie did not commit the error of pretending she did not understand him.
“Even if you were able to strangle me I could not give you what I have not got,” said she, very quietly, standing straight, with her hands behind her back. I noticed that the fingers of her right hand were lightly resting in those of her left, with thumbs crossed, and that showed she was not going to struggle. I was somewhat surprised, because with those wiry hands of hers I have seen her bend a stout poker across her knee, and she could vault astride Bob’s back from the ground by taking a twist of his mane in them. She has done that several times since she had an argument with Dolly one day last November, when she proved that Sir Walter Scott made young Lochinvar perform a remarkable gymnastic feat in the lines:
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
It was evident that young Lochinvar’s right leg must have gone clean over the fair lady’s picture hat, so I think that the poet meant “clung”; but, anyhow, what I want to convey now is that Minkie could have landed on Schwartz’s shoulders and tapped the bald spot on his head with one of the fire-irons at one and the same instant if she had meant to fight.
Her attitude seemed to me to be rather foolhardy. No matter what you may say about the triumph of mind over matter I believe in having the brute force side of the thesis ready for action if necessary. Schwartz, however, thought she was afraid, which proves conclusively that he was a man of limited ideas, even if he were rich as Crœsus. He did not believe her, though a gentleman should always pretend to believe a lady, even though he knows she is telling a fib. His mouth opened and he held his tongue between his teeth. He came nearer, carrying his hands up like a hawk’s talons. This was partly pantomime and partly real. The pantomime was essential in Dale End; had Minkie been in the Kwantu bush she might have seen more of the reality; but then, under the latter conditions, she would have shown Schwartz a savate kick which I taught her, and he must have bitten off the end of his tongue in learning it. One acquires a lot of capital dodges, I assure you, when defending the top of a wall on a dark night.
But she stood there, quite motionless, a slight, elegant figure in white Surah silk, with black stockings and nice shiny shoes, on which were a pair of her Grandmother Faulkner’s paste buckles, which Mam had just given her as a Christmas present. Her flaxen hair was tied with a ribbon of almost the same tint, and she wore a strip of the ribbon as a waist-belt. I wish somebody could have drawn her as she faced Schwartz, who was well dressed, of course, but whose leering face was like the satyr’s in our garden. And he had called her a devil! Well, tastes differ, as I have remarked previously. Being only a cat, I don’t know much about these things, but my money goes on Schwartz if there is a prize competition for a model of old Hoof and Horns.
I have taken my time over this part of the story to enable you to realise the suspense, the wolfish aspect, the stealthy threatening of Schwartz’s advance towards Minkie. Obviously, the mere clock ticking was short enough.
“You lie!” he breathed again, so close that his wine-laden breath was offensive to her. Then he grasped her arms, and began to pass his coarse hands down her body. I am telling you the simple truth. He actually searched her clothes, pressing them to her limbs to make sure that his precious ju-ju was not secreted somewhere about her. I held my breath, and I really had it in my mind to jump up at his staring eyes, when I chanced to catch Minkie’s contemptuous smile. Then I knew that she had fooled Schwartz again, had, in fact, expected him to adopt some such futile dodge, and had put the fetish in a secure hiding-place.
Disappointment nearly drove the man off his balance. He was so enraged that he shook her violently.