FALLON: Well, here it is. (Gives him bills. MOHUN sticks them in his right-hand vest pocket.) No, you listen to me. (As soon as he obtains the money, MOHUN'S manner changes. He is amused, and insolent.)
MOHUN: No, not a bit like it. Now that I've got this, you'll have to listen to me. (Moves deliberately to Morris chair and seats himself) Mr. Fallon, I don't like your tone.
FALLON: (Slowly.) You—don't—like my tone? I don't think I understand you.
MOHUN: You talk like you had a whip over me. You don't seem to see that I got you dead to rights.
FALLON: (In pretended alarm.) Have you?
MOHUN: Have I? I got a mortgage on you for life. You got in wrong when you gave me that money. Don't you see that? Mr. Fallon, I've been taking out information about you. Some 'Frisco lads tell me you used to be pretty sweet on a certain party, but she chucked you and married the other fellow. But the first day you come back a millionaire she visits your rooms—and you give her a thousand dollars! Why? She can't tell. You can't tell. But I can tell. I can tell her husband. He's only got to ask the hotel clerk and the cashier and the bell hops, and when I've told my story as I'll tell it—he's liable to shoot you. (There is a pause during which FALLON stares at MOHUN incredulously.) Let it sink in, Mr. Fallon.
FALLON: (Quietly.) I am—letting it sink in.
MOHUN: Now, a thousand dollars is all well enough from a lady that has to scrape to find it, but a thousand dollars from a millionaire like you is a joke. And unless you want me to go to the husband, you'll come across with fifty thousand dollars, and until I get it, I'm not going to leave this room.
FALLON: (Solemnly.) Then, I don't believe you are going to leave this room.
MOHUN: (Impudently.) Oh, I'll go when I'm ready.