She turned her back upon him, her face white, her eyes blazing, but Fagin stood between her and the entrance, grinning savagely.
"Let me pass, sir; this is my father's house."
"Not while I am here, Mistress," he snarled, without moving. "The old man isn't ridin' after me with a squadron of cavalry to-day. This happens to be my turn to give orders, and yer to obey! Do yer hear—yer'll obey! Those weren't pretty words yer spoke to Grant, but they don't hurt me none. You damned little spitfire, I'd marry yer myself if I could, just to break yer spirit. As it is, I'll show yer yer master fer once. So it's the spy yer want, is it?"
She stared at him without a word, a depth of hatred but no fear in her level eyes.
"Lost yer tongue, have yer? Well, we'll find it fer yer fast enough. What's the fellow's name?"
"To whom do you refer?" she asked, her passage blocked.
"The Continental who's put Grant out of the running?"
"I presume you mean Major Lawrence, although no one has authority to couple my name with his."
"Oh, indeed! I'll show yer authority in plenty, Mistress. Come, now, I'm done discussing this matter. As long as yer father isn't able ter attend ter this affair I am a-goin' ter act in his place. We'll have a loyalist marriage, by God! an' have it now. Step out here, Jenks, an' get busy! Come, move, you coyote—Jones, hustle him along. Now, Captain, there's a good place ter stand, in between those windows. Mistress Claire—"
I was all ready, pistol in hand, burning with a determination to shoot Fagin down, yet her voice halted him.