Saltash laughed, and blew another cloud of smoke.  “That may be why I have survived so long,” he remarked.  “I don’t see the horsewhip either.  Jake, my friend, you are not rising to the occasion with becoming enthusiasm.  Any good offering you a drink to stimulate your energies?”

“None whatever,” said Jake, still very quietly.  “I don’t go—­till I have what I came for—­that’s all.  Neither do you!”

“I—­see!” said Saltash.

An odd little gleam that was almost furtive shone for a second in his eyes and was gone.  He turned and crossed the room to Toby.

“My dear,” he said, “I think this business will be more quickly settled if you leave us.”

She looked at him piteously.  He took her lightly by the arm, and led her to a door leading to an adjoining room.  “By the time you have smoked one cigarette,” he said, “I shall be with you again.”

She turned with an impulsive attempt to cling to him.  “You’ll—­keep me?” she said, through trembling lips.

He made a royal gesture that frustrated her with perfect courtesy.  “Are you not my wife?” he said.

He opened the door for her, and she had no choice but to go through.  She went swiftly, without another glance, and Saltash closed the door behind her.

CHAPTER II

THE VILLAIN SCORES

“Now, sir!” said Saltash, and turned.  His tone was brief; the smile had gone from his face.  He came to Jake with a certain haughtiness, and stood before him.

Jake squared his shoulders.  “So—­you’ve married her!” he said.

“I have.”  There was a note of challenge in the curt rejoinder.  Saltash’s brows were drawn.

“I should like to see—­proof of that,” Jake said, after a moment.

“The devil you would!” Again the hot gleam shone in the odd eyes.  Saltash stood for a second in the attitude of a man on the verge of violence.  Then, contemptuously, he relaxed.

He lounged back against the mantel-piece and smoked his cigarette.  “The devil you would, Jake!” he said again, in a tone so different that the words might have been uttered in another language.  “And why—­if one be permitted to ask?”

“I think you know why,” Jake said.

“Oh, do I?  You virtuous people are always the first to suspect evil.”  Saltash spoke with deliberate cynicism.  “And suppose the marriage is not genuine—­as you so politely hint—­what then, my worthy Jake?  What then?”

Jake faced him unwaveringly.  “If not,” he said, “she goes back with me.”

Saltash’s eyes suddenly flashed to his, but he did not alter his position.  “Sure of that?” he asked casually.

“Sure!” said Jake.

“And if I refuse to part with her?  If she refuses to go?”

“Either way,” said Jake immovably.

“And why?” Saltash straightened suddenly.  “Tell me why!  What in hell has it got to do with you?”