"No; I am going to quit you, that's all, for I am satisfied that you will get us both into a bad scrape if I stick by you."
"All right; you can quit. You are too soft for me, anyway."
Harris tried to show his contempt for Mazarin in his manner as well as his voice, but the little man did not seem at all affected.
"You are too hard for me," he said. "I believe I was foolish in having anything to do with you."
"Let go my wrist!"
"Drop that knife!"
They now stood looking straight into each other's eyes, and there was something commanding in the manner of the little man who had smashed Frank's apparatus and then wept like a child over the ruin he had wrought.
After some seconds, Sport's fingers relaxed on the handle of the knife, which fell to the floor, striking point downward and standing quivering there.
Mazarin stooped and caught up the knife, closing it and thrusting it into a pocket.