Sam, keeping his eyes upon her face, took a jump into the dark.
“It’s this way,” he said, “I’m something of an adventurer myself. I fly the black flag. I come from where you do. I had to reach out my hand and take what I wanted. I do not blame you in the least, but it just happens that I saw Colonel Tom Rainey first. He is my game and I do not propose to have you fooling around. I am not bluffing. You have got to get off him.”
Leaning forward, he stared at her intently, and then lowered his voice. “I’ve got your record. I know the man you used to live with. He’s going to help me get you if you do not drop it.”
Sitting back in his chair Sam watched her gravely. He had taken the odd chance to win quickly by a bluff and had won. But Luella London was not to be defeated without a struggle.
“You lie,” she cried, half springing from her chair. “Frank has never—”
“Oh yes, Frank has,” answered Sam, turning as though to call a waiter; “I will have him here in ten minutes if you wish to be shown.”
Picking up a fork the woman began nervously picking holes in the table cloth and a tear appeared upon her cheek. She took a handkerchief from a bag that hung hooked over the back of a chair at the side of the table and wiped her eyes.
“All right! All right!” she said, bracing herself, “I’ll drop it. If you’ve dug up Frank Robson you’ve got me. He’ll do anything you say for a piece of money.”
For some minutes the two sat in silence. A tired look had come into the woman’s eyes.
“I wish I was a man,” she said. “I get whipped at everything I tackle because I’m a woman. I’m getting past my money-making days in the theatre and I thought the colonel was fair game.”