He
took it at a gulp. He had another. It was cold and bracing to his
fevered stomach. He stepped to the door, cautiously turned the knob and
slowly drew the door to him. He peeped out.
Under the hall light he saw them--she jammed back against the stair-rail
and he with his hands at her throat. His back was to Jan.
"Where is it? Come--give up!" he was saying. Jan could not hear what she
said; but the man took a fresh grip and shook her. "Don't tell me
anything like that! You gave in at last and got the money off him. Give
it up!"
"I did not! I'm not that kind of a woman--not yet. I may be yet if you
keep on--but I'm not yet. And he's not that kind of a man."
"You're not? And he's not? And you an hour in his room with the door
locked! You got money off him! Give it to me!"
"N-no--no!"
"You lie, you--" He shifted his grip to her hair and started to drag her
along the hall.
Jan stepped softly out, reached his arms round Goles's shoulders, drew
them tight against his own chest; and then, holding him safe with his
elbows, he ran his fingers down until they felt the knuckles of the
other's hands. And then he squeezed. With thumb and forefinger of each
hand he squeezed. Jan could pick up a keg of copper rivets with one
thumb and forefinger and toss it across the deck of a ship. And now he
squeezed. Goles hung on. Jan squeezed. The knuckles began to crack.
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