"Fire!" I cried. It was the most courageous act of my life!
Sir Charles Venner let his hand fall, and his eyes. I heard a click, and I watched him restore the pistol to his pocket. In one second he had aged ten years. He was now an old man, haggard faced and trembling.
I strode to the bell and pressed the button. I had won the battle well—woe to the vanquished! I stalked over to the door and threw it wide. "Get out of this!" I grated. "Get out of this and go—hang yourself if you want to cheat the hangman. You've had your fun, and now by heaven! I'll have my pound of flesh!"
He raised to me the face of a panic-stricken craven. "For Christ's sake!" he cried, and even pleaded with his hands. He was beaten indeed. Not only his courage, but his pride was shattered into fragments. I surveyed the wreck I had occasioned, and relented.
"Well, then!" I said, "the money!"
With feverish hands he tore from his coat a small bundle of notes and forced them upon me.
"Count them, count them!" he mumbled.
"Go!" I ordered sternly.
"But, but—your oath!"
"I'll keep it—go!"