“Wait, then, I tell you—all I make clear—but no light. Eef there is a light, he know you are here; eef he know you are here, he know that I, too, am here—an’ eef he know I, too, am here, then we die. That ees clear now?”
“Well, frankly, it still leaves a bit to be desired. One or two minor gaps—who is it that’s going to slay us when he comes to the conclusion that we’re both here, Daisy? Manuelo?”
“No, no, no—Manuelo, I tell you, he dyin’ in those tin mines.”
“Oh—well, then, candidly, you have me. If it isn’t Manuelo, my mind is a perfect blank as to who would profit by doing away with us. Unless—you haven’t misled me about Mr. Potts, have you?”
“Ah, what now?”
“Mr. Potts is still dead?”
“Honable Tonee, eet ees not well to mock—eet ees not well to laff! He was dead like I say; eet ees not good to mock the dead.”
“He has my abject apologies. But that brings us back to the murderer.”
“Murderair?”
“By all means—the cove who’s going to dash in and dispose of us if I light the lamp.”