"Ah! It is ver' painful to say. Alas, Senor Gendarme, I mus' have my property. … If she refuse, then I mus' sever one of her pretty fingers. … An' if she still refuse — I sever her pretty fingers one by one, until——"
"You know what would happen to you?" interrupted Stormont, in a voice that quivered in spite of himself.
"I take my chance. Senor Gendarme, she is within that room. If you are her frien', you shall advise her to return to me my property."
After another silence.
"Eve!" he called sharply.
She placed her lips to the door: "Yes, Jack."
He said: "There are five masked men out here who say that Clinch robbed them and they are here to recover their property. … Do you know anything about this?"
"I know they lie. My father is not a thief. … I have my rifle and plenty of ammunition. I shall kill every man who enters this room."
For a moment nobody stirred or spoke. Then Quintana strode to the bolted door and struck it with the butt of his rifle.
"You, in there," he said in a menacing voice, "— you listen once to me! You open your door and come out. I give you one minute!" He struck the door again: "One minute, senorita! — or I cut from your frien', here, the hand from his right arm!"