“Jim Banker,” he said, “I came for you. There are others out here who have also come for you—but I am holding them back. I want you myself.”
Out of Banker’s foaming lips came a snarling cry.
“Wh-what fer?”
Again the answer was not direct, and this time it was Solange he spoke to, though he did not alter the direction of his gaze.
“Mademoiselle, you are directly in line with these—men. You had better move aside.”
But Solange felt the pressure of a gun muzzle at her back and the snarl was in her ear. 300
“You don’t move none! Stand where you be, or I’ll take you fust and git him next!”
Nevertheless she would have moved, had not De Launay caught the knowledge of her peril. He spoke again, still calm but with a new, steely note in his voice.
“Stand fast, mademoiselle, then, if they must have you for a shield. But don’t move. Shut your eyes!”
Hardly knowing why, she obeyed, oblivious of the peril to herself but in an agony lest her presence and position increase his danger. De Launay dominated her, and she stood as rigid as a statue, awaiting the cataclysm.