“Now you may be as bad as the worst of us, and it may be you won't stick at much; and it may be that you have in that clever head a thousand ways of keeping us in funds. I should say by the look of you, you had.
“But I should say, too, that you were one of the mean breed, who keeps things to himself. You are too much class for us. We don't suit your book, and so we can rot while you and Melun spend the dibs up West. Now, that's not good enough.”
Crow looked round the table, the men nodded, and he continued:—
“We are going to end it here and now. Mark you, Mr. High-and-Mighty, we owe you one grudge already. We did not go looking after you to interfere with your pleasures, which probably are a deal worse than ours. In the same way, we do not allow any interference with what we do down here.
“It's a thing which Melun himself never dares to do, and why should you? It's more than we can stand. I am talking about those girls the other night.”
Westerham was still smiling with his eyes hard and bright. “Perhaps,” he said, “you had better let me inform you that if I found the same state of things going on to-night I should interfere again.”
Some of the men stared in astonishment at his audacity. Crow's face went white with passion.
“Would you, my beauty? I don't think you would.”
Then in a flash he had drawn a six-shooter from his pocket and yelled “Hands up!”
Westerham laughed outright. Unless he should so lose control over himself as to act foolishly he knew that Crow would not fire. He had already told two men that they wanted no firing that night.