"Sure you--don't--want to?" came in a gasp from Toby, as she burrowed a little deeper. "Oh, that!" Saltash stood up again, and his face was sardonic, for the moment almost grim. "Yes, quite sure of that, my dear. Moreover,--it will amuse me to meet the virtuous Jake on his own ground for once. A new sensation, Nonette! Will you help me to face him? Or do you prefer the more early-Victorian _rôle_ of the lady who retires till the combat is over and then emerges to reward the winner?" She lifted her head at that, and uttered a scoffing little laugh, withdrawing herself abruptly from his support. Her pointed chin went up with a hint of defiance. All signs of agitation were gone. "I'll stay and help you," she said. He made her an elaborate bow. "Then we will ring up the curtain. I congratulate you, madam, upon your spirit. I trust the interview will not try your fortitude too far. Remember, should your feminine ears be shocked by anything that may pass between us, it is up to you to retire at any moment." Toby's blue eyes caught sudden fire. She broke into an unexpected chuckle. "I do not think I am likely to retire for that reason, _monseigneur_," she said. "Where is he? How did you know he was coming?" "Because he is already here," said Saltash. "I passed him at the office, making enquiries. He had his back to me, but there is no mistaking that bull-neck of his. Ah!" He turned his head sharply. "I hear a step outside! Sit down, _mignonne_! Sit down and be dignified!" But Toby's idea of dignity was to sit on the corner of the table and swing one leg. If any apprehension lingered in her mind, she concealed it most successfully. She looked like an alert and mischievous boy. There came a knock at the door, and for a moment her eyes sought Saltash. He grinned back derisively, and pulled out his cigarette-case. "_Entrez!_" he called. The door opened with a flourish. A waiter entered with a card. Saltash barely looked at him. His eyes flashed beyond to the open doorway. "You can come in," he remarked affably. "We've been expecting you for some time." Jake entered. His square frame seemed to fill the space between the door-posts. He was empty-handed, but there was purpose--grim purpose--in every line of him. Saltash dismissed the waiter with a jerk of the eyebrows. He was utterly unabashed, amazingly self-assured. He met Jake's stern eyes with cheery effrontery. "Quite like old times!" he commented. "The only difference being, my good Jake, that on this occasion I have reached the winning-post first." Jake's look went beyond him to the slight figure by the table. Toby was on her feet. Her face was flushed, but her eyes were wide and defiant. He regarded her steadily for several seconds before, very deliberately, he transferred his attention to Saltash, who nonchalantly awaited his turn, tapping the cigarette on the lid of his case with supreme indifference.