For he saw before him not Ann Price the decent farmer’s daughter, with her neat cap and snow-white apron, her calm face and quiet manners; but Jem Bax, the young smuggler, with the rough shock of shoulder-length hair, the seamen’s breeches, and high boots, the loose shirt, open jacket, and flowing tie, with the pale set face, and fierce devil-may-care expression. And even now that he knew them to be one and the same person, he could hardly be surprised that he had not guessed the truth before. For, as there had seemed to be nothing masculine about Ann in her skirts and cap: so now in Jem Bax, in coat and breeches, he could see no trace of the woman. CHAPTER XII. SETTLING ACCOUNTS. When Tregenna came in, with his wide hat under his arm, and with the easy air of a casual caller, it was Ann who appeared more startled than he did. She had had one foot on the nearest settle, and had been engaged in priming one of her pistols. But on seeing the intruder she started erect, drew from her belt a second pistol, which was already charged, and leveled it at his head. It missed fire, however, and Tregenna sauntered up the room towards her, as if such a trifle as the attempted discharge of a pistol at him were the greeting he was most accustomed to. “Good evening, Mistress Ann,” said he, with a low bow, when he had come within half a dozen paces of her. She replied by a scowl, and by a muttered whisper between her teeth of a very unfeminine kind. Nothing daunted, he still came on; and knowing perfectly the artful character of his opponent, and profiting by her momentary confusion and annoyance at the failure of her weapon, he seized her by both wrists, forced her into a seat and placed himself beside her, still firmly holding both her hands. “Curse you! What are you going to do to me?” “Nothing but keep you quiet for a few minutes till I get a chance of getting away.” She laughed scornfully. “You won’t get away. Not even if you kill me. We’ve got you fast this time.” She glared at him, her face within a foot of his, with eyes full of passionate hate. “In the mean time _I’ve got you fast_, for the moment, and I intend——” She interrupted him, breathing heavily, and almost snorting defiance. “To humble me, to humiliate me, to treat me as—as——” It was Tregenna’s turn to interrupt, which he did with a scorn as steady as her own. “As a woman! Troth, no! There’s nothing less likely, nothing less possible, I assure you. I intend to treat you—I am treating you—as Jem Bax the smuggler, as hardened a ruffian as I’ve ever met, as ferocious as a savage, and with naught of the other sex about him but the cunning and the meanness!” “Meanness!” She quailed under the word. For the first time she flinched, and her eyelids quivered.