"The man who lays a finger on that young girl had better be dead. He's as good as dead the moment he touches her. There won't be a chance for him. … Nor for any of you, if you harm her."
"Calm youse'f, my frien'," said Quintana. "I demand of thees young lady only that she return to me the property of which I have been rob by Monsieur Clinch."
"I knew nothing of any theft. Nor does she——"
"Pardon: Senor Clinch knows, and I know." His tone changed, offensively: "Senor Gendarme, am I permit to understan' that you are a frien' of thees young lady? — a heart-frien', per'aps——"
"I am her friend," said Stormont bluntly.
"Ah," said Quintana, "then you shall persuade her to return to me thees packet of which Monsieur Clinch has rob me."
There was a short silence, then Quintana's voice again:
"I know thees packet is conceel in thees house. Peaceably, if possible,
I would recover my property. … If she refuse——"
Another pause.
"Well?" inquired Stormont, coolly.