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The door opened and a servant appeared, it was the miracle with calves.

“Send out at once, and bring in an officer—a policeman,” said Jones.

“Yes, my Lord.”

The door shut.

Voles jumped up, and seized his hat. Jones walked to the door and locked it, placing the key in his pocket.

“I’ve got you,” said he, “and I’m going to squeeze you, and I’m going to make you squeal.”

“You’re going to—you’re going to—you’re going to—” said Voles. He was the colour of old ivory.

“I’m going to make you go through this—”

“Here, d—n this nonsense—stop it—you fool, I’ll smash you,” said Voles. “Here, open that door and stop this business.”

“I told you I was going to make you squeal,” said Jones, “but that’s nothing to what’s coming.”

Voles came to the table and put down his hat. Then, facing Jones, he rapped with the knuckles of his right hand on the table.

“You’ve done it now,” said he, “you’ve laid yourself open to a nice charge, false imprisonment, that’s what you’ve done. A nice thing in the papers to-morrow morning, and intimidation on top of that. Over and above those there’s the papers. I’ll have no mercy—those papers go to Lord Plinlimon to-morrow morning, you’ll be in the divorce court this day month, and so will she. Reputation! she won’t have a rag to cover herself with.”