"Wait!" she cried, standing erect and scornful. "I will not consent to this. I am going to leave this room."
"Oh, I reckon not," and he leered into her eyes. "Don't rouse me, or yer'll find out I'm a wolf ter bite. Yer get back there beside Grant, or I'll make yer."
"You will? You dare not!"
"Don't I, Mistress?" he cried savagely, "I'll show yer."
He reached forth one great hand, the fingers gripping her sleeve, but she wrenched away, the cloth tearing as she sprang back.
"Fagin, I know you, but I am not afraid of you. I know you for a cruel, cold-blooded murderer, an outrager of women, a thief, and an outlaw. No, you cannot stop me now. You are a low-down cowardly cur, making war on women and children, sneaking around in the paths of armies, plundering and looting the helpless. I despise you and every man associated with you. Neither you, nor all your company, can make me marry Captain Grant. I will die first. No, don't move, and don't think you are dealing with a frightened girl. I am desperate enough, but I can act—"
"Hell! Jones, take that hell-cat by the arms!"
"Jones will do nothing of the kind—and you—stand back, Fagin; don't dare to lay a hand on me again!"
Her face was white, her lips set, her eyes blazing, but Fagin, assured of her helplessness, laughed, and stepped forward. From what hidden concealment it came I know not, but there was the flash of a polished barrel, a sharp report, the whirl of smoke, and the brute went backward over a chair, crashing to the floor, with hands flung high over his head. I was aware of the swift rush of a body past me, of steps going up the stairs, and then, with a yell, my men poured out from the library into the hall.