‘I don’t want my private affairs all over Melbourne,’ retorted Gaston, smoothly, returning to his position in front of the fireplace; ‘are you afraid?’
Something again went wrong with Dr Gollipeck’s inside, and he grated out a hard ironical laugh.
‘Do I look afraid?’ he asked, spreading out his hands.
Vandeloup stooped down to the portmanteau lying open at his feet, and picked up a revolver, which he pointed straight at Gollipeck.
‘You make an excellent target,’ he observed, quickly, putting his finger on the trigger.
Dr Gollipeck sat down, and arranged his handkerchief once more over his knees.
‘Very likely,’ he answered, coolly, ‘but a target you won’t practise on.’
‘Why not?’ asked Vandeloup, still keeping his finger on the trigger.
‘Because the pistol-shot would alarm the house,’ said Gollipeck, serenely, ‘and if I was found dead, you would be arrested for my murder. If I was only wounded I could tell a few facts about M. Octave Braulard that would have an unpleasant influence on the life of M. Gaston Vandeloup.’
Vandeloup laid the pistol down on the mantelpiece with a laugh, lit a cigarette, and, sitting down in a chair opposite Gollipeck, began to talk.