"Quite so," he rejoined. "We have had a delightful time, don’t you know." Then he turned to the desperado, who, with the smoking pistol still in his hand, was leaning against the centre-table and laughing at the strangers’ discomfiture. "Awfully jolly of you to invite us, but circumstances over which we have no control, don’t you know—" He grew painfully muddled. "That’s right, pane in the face," said Cash. Sir John dropped his eye-glass in disgust. "Circumstances over which you have no control," sneered Cash. "You describe the situation accurate. I’m a-runnin’ this here garden-party, and I ain’t agoin’ to let anybody miss the fun—savvy?" Jim’s intervention had only hurt their chances of escaping from the saloon. Cash motioned his men, with their drawn guns, to stand close at the entrances. Jim saw Diana turn pale. He forgot everything; he only knew that she stood there—that at this moment Henry and Sir John were powerless to help her. He must get her away from the place; he would agree promise Cash whatever he wished in return—only Diana must be allowed to leave. "But the lady—you won’t detain the lady against her will?" He knew the weakness of Cash’s nature; to appeal to him as a gallant might be efficacious. In his earnestness to carry his point Jim stepped out from among the men around the bar. Almost simultaneously a low cry of "Jim" broke from Henry and Diana. It was followed by an ejaculation from Sir John. It passed unremarked, and Jim determined to ignore what his impetuous folly had brought upon him. Cash was oblivious of everything save his revenge. He bowed low to Diana—he would be polite to the lady, even if the request came from Jim. "I am going to give the lady the chance to see how an Englishman looks when he has to take his medicine." He looked at Diana. "She’s sure a thoroughbred—she ain’t batted an eye nor turned a hair. I’ll bet a hundred to one she stays." Diana could at that moment have passed out of the saloon, leaving Henry and Sir John there, but she saw only Jim. It _was_ Jim—Jim in those strange clothes—Jim so bronzed, so strong, so masterful. What a contrast to Henry! Cash waited for her answer. He adored playing to the gallery—this was heightening the situation beyond all expectation. "She stays," he finally said. "Good! Gents, this is to be a nice, quiet, sociable affair—ladies are present. Any effort to create trouble will be nipped in the bud. Gents, to the bar." He turned to Henry and Sir John as he spoke. He had a contempt for the men, but there was something about this quiet, dignified woman that embarrassed him, though he would have been the last to admit it. A few more drinks and he might be dangerous, but at present he was still master of himself. His game was to make Jim and his gang ridiculous before the strangers. Afterwards—well, then the serious settling of their score should come. He took a glass that was handed him across the bar and gulped down its contents.