Miss Farrar was not afraid of the revolver or of the man. She did not believe either would do her harm. The idea of both the presence of the man in her room, and that any one should dare to threaten her was what filled her with repugnance. As the warm blood flowed again through her body her spirit returned. She was no longer afraid. She was, instead, indignant, furious.
With one step she was in the room, leaving the road to the door open.
“Get out of here,” she commanded.
The little man snarled, and stamped the floor. He shoved the gun nearer to her.
“The jewels, damn you!” he whispered. “Do you want me to blow your fool head off? Where are the jewels?”
“Jewels?” repeated Miss Farrar. “I have no jewels!”
“You lie!” shrieked the little man. “He said the house was full of jewels. We heard him. He said he would stay to guard the jewels.”
Miss Farrar recognized his error. She remembered Lathrop’s jest, and that it had been made while the two men were within hearing, behind the stone wall.
“It was a joke!” she cried. “Leave at once!” She backed swiftly toward the open window that looked upon the road. “Or I’ll call your sergeant!”
“If you go near that window or scream,” whispered the rat-like one, “I’ll shoot!”