“Dry up! Would you blat my name from the housetops? I believe you would do that, you infernal jade.”
The girl shrank from the miscreant’s uplifted hand, from the fierce, threatening look in his fiery eyes.
“Don’t speak to me like that,” she cried, striving to pass him and reach the steps. “Don’t you dare to strike me. I’ll scream for help. I’ll——”
“You open your mouth to scream, hang you, and I’ll close it forever,” Bailey fiercely interrupted. “You’d have given me to the guns. You’d have sent me up——”
“Let me pass!”
“And I’ll send you to the devil for it. I’ll teach you to——”
The miscreant got no farther with his vicious threats.
Chick had seen him reach into his pocket. He had caught the glint of light from a partly drawn blade. He already was nearly across the street, unobserved by either, and he now whipped out his revolver and uttered a shout, though scarce twenty feet from the couple, bent only upon causing Bart Bailey to take to his heels.
“Cut that out!” he shouted. “Let the girl alone, or——”
“Who in thunder are you?[{17}]”