"W-what are you d-doing—" She controlled her voice and the wavering weapon with an effort. "What are you doing in this house?"
"Doing? In this house?" he repeated, his eyes protruding in the direction of the unsteady pistol muzzle. "What are you doing in this house—if you don't mind saying!"
"I—I m-must ask you to put up your hands," she said. "If you move I shall certainly s-shoot off this pistol."
"It will go off, anyway, if you handle it like that!" he said, exasperated. "What do you mean by pointing it at me?"
"I mean to fire it off in a few moments if you don't raise your hands above your head!"
He looked at the pistol; it was new and shiny; he looked at the athletic young figure silhouetted against the brilliant light.
"Well, if you make a point of it, of course." He slowly held up both hands, higher, then higher still. "Upon my word!" he breathed. "Held up by a woman!" And he said aloud, bitterly: "No doubt you have assistance close at hand."
"No doubt," she said coolly. "What have you been packing into that valise?"
"P-packing into what? Oh, into that suit case? That is my suit case."
"Of course it is," she said quietly, "but what have you inside it?"