'In that case you'll have to smart for it.'
'That won't give you your money. It's a nice little lot.'
'I know it's a nice little lot, and I can't afford to lose it; you know I can't afford to lose it. But there's something I can afford to lose still less, and that--that's my character.'
'Your character! Why, if you only could manage to get rid of your character--I don't believe you yourself realise what an awful one it is--it'd be the best stroke of business you've done for many a day, my dear Cox!'
Mr Burton advanced, as if to tap his friend, in an affable manner, on the shoulder. This brought him within a few feet of where Miss Casata was standing. Laying his left hand on Mr Cox's shoulder, with his right he snatched away that gentleman's walking-stick, swung round and struck Miss Casata's outstretched wrist with such violence that the revolver was driven from her grasp and sent flying across the room. She gave a cry of pain. Her arm fell limp at her side. The blow had been delivered with so much force that it was quite possible her wrist was broken.
'You devil!'
'You wild cat!' returned the gentleman. 'Now, Flyman, on to her!'
The Flyman obeyed. The two gentlemen attacked the lady. Although she fought gamely, especially considering her injured wrist, she was no match for the pair. They got her down upon the floor, still struggling for all that she was worth.
'Now, Flyman, where's that stuff of yours?'
'I'm getting it. She's a oner. She's bit me to the bone.'