It needed all Coke's vehemence to restrain them.

"Keep out of it, you swabs," he would growl.

"It's your on'y chanst.

This isn't our shindy.

Let 'em rip an' be hanged to 'em!" Yet he was manifestly uneasy, and he kept a wary eye on De Sylva, whom he appraised at a personal value of five thousand pounds "an pickin's." A tall, distinguished-looking man, wearing a brilliant uniform, his breast decorated with many orders, now appeared on the scene.