"A strong argument," said the Advocate, without blenching, "and a savage one. You have a staff in your hand, and, probably, a knife in your pocket."
"Ah, I have, and a sharp blade to it."
"I thought as much. Would not that do your business more effectually?"
"Perhaps. But I've learnt a lesson to-day about knives, which teaches me not to use mine too freely."
The Advocate frowned.
"Other scoundrels would run less risk of the gaol if their proceeding's were as logical. Do you know me?"
"How should I?"
"It might be, then," continued the Advocate, secretly taking a box of matches from his pocket, "that, like yourself, I am both a thief and a would-be murderer."
As he uttered the last words he flung a lighted match straight at the man's face, and for a moment the glare revealed the ruffian's features. He staggered back, repeating the word "Murderer!" in a hoarse startled whisper. The Advocate strode swiftly to his side, and striking another match, held it up to his own face.
"Look at me, Gautran," he said.