Leon did not reply. He pulled open a drawer of the bureau, searched for some time, and presently found what he sought: a thin silken scarf. This, despite the struggles of the man on the bed, he fastened about his mouth.
“In Mosamodes,” he said—“and if you ever say that before my friend George Manfred, be careful to give its correct pronunciation: he is rather touchy on the point—some friends of yours took a man named Barberton, whom they subsequently murdered, and tried to make him talk by burning his feet. He was a hero. I’m going to see how heroic you are.”
“For God’s sake don’t do it!” said the muffled voice of Newton.
Gonsalez was holding a flat metal case which he had taken from his pocket, and the prisoner watched him, fascinated, as he removed the lid, and snapped a cigar-lighter close to its blackened surface. A blue flame rose and swayed in the draught.
“The police force is a most excellent institution,” said Leon. He had found a silver shoe-horn on the table and was calmly heating it in the light of the flame, holding the rapidly warming hook with a silk handkerchief. “But unfortunately, when you are dealing with crimes of violence, moral suasion and gentle treatment produce nothing more poignant in the bosom of your adversary than a sensation of amused and derisive contempt. The English, who make a god of the law, gave up imprisoning thugs and flogged them, and there are few thugs left. When the Russian gunmen came to London, the authorities did the only intelligent thing—they held back the police and brought up the artillery, having only one desire, which was to kill the gunmen at any expense. Violence fears violence. The gunman lives in the terror of the gun—by the way, I understand the old guard is back in full strength?”
When Leon started in this strain he could continue for hours.
“I don’t know what you mean,” mumbled Monty.
“You wouldn’t.” The intruder lifted the blackened, smoking shoe-horn, brought it as near to his face as he dared.
“Yes, I think that will do,” he said, and came slowly towards the bed.
The man drew up his feet in anticipation of pain, but a long hand caught him by the ankles and drew them straight again.