I was glad to see that my words had an effect upon the biggest of the ruffians. He looked at his companions, who glanced back at him apprehensively. One of them edged near me and tried to peer over my shoulder to see if the cabman were really there.
Tollemache went on mumbling and muttering on the sofa. I stood with my back to the window, my watch in my hand, marking the time.
"Time's up," I said, suddenly replacing the watch. "Now, what do you mean to do?"
"We'd best oblige the gent, don't yer think so, Bill?" said one of the men to his chief.
"We'll see about that," said the chief. He came close to me again.
"Now, look you 'ere," he said, "you'd best go out quiet, and no mischief will come. The gent 'ere 'e give us the watch and chain and the money, being old pals of his as he picked up in New York City."
"That's a lie," shouted Tollemache.
"Stay quiet," I said to him.
Then I turned to the ruffian, whose hot breath I felt on my cheek.
"We do not leave here," I said, "without the watch and chain and the money. My mind is quite made up. When I go, this gentleman goes, and we neither of us go without his property."