He had unlocked the door; after a pause I heard him lock it again. But I did not see his face until he returned to the bedside. And then it frightened me. It was distorted and discolored with rage and chagrin.
“You've been making a fool of me!” he cried fiercely.
“No, I have been considering the matter, Rattray.”
“And you won't accept my offer?”
“Of course I won't. I didn't say I'd been considering that.”
He stood over me with clenched fists and starting eyes.
“Don't you see that I want to save your life?” he cried. “Don't you see that this is the only way? Do you suppose a murder more or less makes any difference to that lot downstairs? Are you really such a fool as to die rather than hold your tongue?”
“I won't hold it for money, at all events,” said I. “But that's what I was coming to.”
“Very well!” he interrupted. “You shall only pretend to touch it. All I want is to convince the others that it's against your interest to split. Self-interest is the one motive they understand. Your bare word would be good enough for me.”
“Suppose I won't give my bare word?” said I, in a gentle manner which I did not mean to be as irritating as it doubtless was. Yet his proposals and his assumptions were between them making me irritable in my turn.