He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. "It is useless to deny it," replied Jack. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely.
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