"Hell!" Bofinger cried, appalled by the apparition, and rushing to the table he tried to screen the heap of jewelry from the money-lender, shouting desperately, "Sammamon, get out of here! Sammamon, do you hear me, get out! I'll do you harm!"
The money-lender, whom losses had made frantic and courageous, did not flinch a minute. Rushing past him, he spied the jewels and divined the lawyer's purpose.
"You run away with them, eh! You swindler!" he cried violently. "You touch one thing, you go in jail! Everythings here is mine!"
"Keep your hands off," Bofinger cried. "Those belong to my wife, you can't touch them!"
"KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF."
"Touch, eh?" he screamed, "don't she owes me five thousand dollars!"
"Sheila, you owe him—that hound?" he cried, reeling back. "Is that true?"
"He came himself! He offered it to me!" she cried, and turning in terror to the money-lender she pleaded, "Mr. Sammamon, don't leave me, he's going to kill me!"