"I give you one minute to make up your mind," said Guillaume, dropping his tone of sarcastic pleasantry, and speaking in a hard, sharp voice. "After that, either you give me the papers, or you get up and march before me to the village."
"If I refuse to do either?"
"You can't refuse," said Guillaume.
"You mean—?"
"I should order you to hold your hands behind your back while I took the papers. If you moved—"
"Thank you. I see," said the Captain, with a nod of understanding. "Awkward for you, though, if it came to that."
"Oh, I think not very, in view of your dealings with my portfolio."
"I 'm in a devil of a hole," admitted the Captain, candidly.
"Time's up," announced M. Guillaume, slowly raising the barrel of his revolver, and taking aim at the Captain. For the candle still burnt, although dimly and fitfully, and still there was light to guide the bullet on its way.
"It's all up!" said the Captain. "But, deuce take it, it's hardly the way to treat a gentleman!" Even as he spoke the light of the candle towered for a second in a last shoot of flame, and then went out.