I smiled grimly and tore the paper into shreds.
"You must be satisfied with my oath, which I give you freely, that you will never hear from me again, Sir Charles. Now, please, the money."
"I am sorry," he said softly. "But we cannot do business on those terms!"
I bowed and got at once to my feet. "Then our interview is at an end!" I moved towards the bell, but I had not advanced two paces when he cried out, "Stop!"
I turned to look into the muzzle of a revolver. Sir Charles Venner's right eye gleamed behind the sights, and his expression was diabolically wicked. I hate fire-arms. They make me nervous, especially when pointed in the direction of my vital organs, by a presumably desperate man. A cold shivering thrill quivered up my spine, and I felt my knee joints loosen. My eyes, however, did not cease to serve me, and with a gasp of reviving hope I noted that the pistol was not cocked. It, however, takes more than a second to recover from such a shock as I had received, and Sir Charles had only perceived my first sharp gush of fear.
"Remove your glasses and your wig!" he commanded in a low but terrible voice.
My impulse was to obey unhesitatingly, but with an iron effort I subdued it.
"Be quick!" he cried.
I smiled. It was a miserable grimace, I dare admit, nevertheless I smiled.
"By the God above us you will die in your tracks, unless you are unmasked before I count six!"