“Stand back, Mr. Bracknell!”
The speaker was Miss La Farge, and as she stepped resolutely forward, holding a small but serviceable looking machine pistol in her hand, Dick Bracknell came to a standstill.
“What——”
“Do as I tell you. Lay a finger on Joy, and I will shoot you. She may be your wife, but she is my more-than-sister, and I will brook no violence from you.”
Bracknell looked at her irresolutely. It was very clear to him that she would keep her word, and after a moment he stepped back and laughed to cover his discomfiture.
“A she-lynx—and with claws! Well, time is on my side. You will grow tired of standing there, and Joe will be back in a minute or two, then I shall know how to deal with you.”
Babette did not even reply to him. She glanced at the door and addressed herself to Joy.
“Try and open the door, Joy.”
Joy sprang to the door, and lifting the wooden latch tugged hard at the door. Dick Bracknell watched her with amused eyes, and when all her efforts failed, he spoke again.