“Ah, so far so good. Now, supposing that lost trifle were the very trinket your most observant eyes just now caught sight of?—I don’t say it was; but we will presume so, for the sake of argument—supposing it were, should I not be entitled to consider it my own?”
“You may be lying,” I said, angrily. “Probably you are. Where did you find it?”
“That is as much outside the question as your very offensive manner.”
“You’ve always been the bane of our house. What do I care what you think of my manner? The sharper it cuts, the better pleased am I. You’ve worked upon moods and weaknesses of the old man with your infernal cunning and got him under your thumb, as you think. Don’t be too sure. You’ll find an enemy of very different caliber in me. There’s a law for blackmailers, though you mayn’t think it.”
He cocked his head on one side a moment, like a vile carrion crow; then came softly and pushed a lean finger at my breast.
“And a law for fratricides,” he said, quietly.
I laughed so disdainfully that he forgot himself on the instant in a wild burst of fury.
“Toad! Filthy, poisonous viper!” he yelled. “You think to combat me with your pitiful little sword of brass! Have I overlooked your insolence, d’ye think? Speak a word further—one word, you pestilent dog, and I’ll smash you, body and soul, as I smash this glass!”
In his rabid frenzy he actually seized and threw upon the floor the tumbler from which he had lately been drinking, and, putting his heavy heel on it, crushed it into a thousand fragments.
“Oh!” he moaned, his breath chattering like a dry leaf in the wind, “I’ll be even with you, my friend—I’ll be even with you! You dare—you dare—you dare! You, the poor dependent on my bounty, whom I could wither with a word. The law you call upon so glibly has a long arm for murderers. You think a little lapse of years has made you safe”—he laughed wildly—“safe? Holy saints in heaven! I’ve only to step over to the police station—five minutes—and you’re laid by the heels and a pretty collar weaving for your neck.”