"I won't!" he cried sullenly. "I tell you I won't go up there any more!"
"Very well then, I'll fling you out into the street now, just as you are. You'd cut a fine figure, wouldn't you?"
"I don't care!"
"All right. If you don't care, come along and get out of my house." And he took him again by the shoulder and hustled him out of the room towards the front door.
"What do you mean to do?" asked the mysterious prisoner in a frightened voice.
"Do!" Boyne echoed fiercely. "Why, kick you out! I'm sick of trying to help such an unthankful blackguard."
"I—I'm not unthankful," he declared. "I'll go back."
"Ah! I thought you wouldn't relish being put into the hands of the police—eh?" laughed Boyne. "Go upstairs."
The hooded man turned towards the stairs with a disconsolate sigh, but without further words. He saw that all argument was useless.
"Come!" whispered Boyne, whose quick ear had caught a sound in the kitchen below. "Mrs. Felmore is back! By gad! hustle up—quickly."