Riley made his voice larger. "Gaspar!"

Then a door opened slowly, while Sinclair dropped his hand on the butt
of his gun and waited. The door moved again. A head appeared and
observed him.

"Pronto!" declared Riley Sinclair, and a little man slipped into full
view.

He was a full span shorter, Riley felt, than a man had any right to be.
Moreover, he was too delicately made. He had a head of bright blond
hair, thick and rather on end. The face was thin and handsome, and the
eyes impressed Riley as being at once both bright and weary. He was
wearing a dressing gown, the first Riley had ever seen.

"Get your hands out of those pockets!" He emphasized the command with a
jerk of his gun hand, and the arms of the schoolteacher flew up over
his head. Lean, fragile hands, Riley saw them to be. Altogether it was
the most disgustingly inefficient piece of manhood that he had ever
seen.

"Slide out here, Gaspar. They's some gents here that wants to look you
over."

The voice that answered him was pitched so low as to be almost
unintelligible. "What do they want?"

"Step lively, friend! They want to see a gent that lets a woman do his
fighting for him."