"We'll see about that," said one of the men, significantly. He left the room as he spoke.
During his absence, the other men stood perfectly quiet, eyeing me with furtive and stealthy glances.
Poor Tollemache sat upright on the sofa, blinking with his heavy eyes. Sometimes he tried to rise, but always sank back again on his seat. During the whole time he kept muttering to himself:—
"Yes, good fellows these: jolly time, champagne, all the rest, but I'm robbed; this is a thieves' den. Don't leave me alone, Halifax. Want to go. You undershtand. Watch and chain gone, and all my money; three hundred in notes and gold. Yes, three hundred. Won't let me go till I give 'em my cheque-book; telegraphed for cheque-book in dressing-case. You undershtand, yes. Don't leave me, old boy."
"It will be all right," I said. "Stay quiet."
The position was one of extreme danger for both of us. There was nothing whatever for it but to carry matters with a cool hand and not to show a vestige of fear. I glanced round me and observed the position of the room. The sofa on which Tollemache was sitting was close to the window. This window had French doors, which opened on to the balcony. I edged close to it.
I did not do this a moment too soon. The man who had left the room now returned with a ruffian of gigantic build, who came up to me at once with a menacing attitude.
"WHO ARE YOU?"
"Who are you?" he said, shaking his brawny fist in my face. "We don't want you here—get out of this room at once, or it will be the worse for you. We won't 'ave you a-interfering with our friends. This gent 'ave come 'ere of his own free will. We like him, and 'e's 'eartily welcome to stay as long as 'e wants to. You'd best go, ef you value your life."