It was as though he knew our Irish proverb, “Beware of the front of a bull, the heels of a horse, the teeth of a dog, and the smile of an Englishman.”
An immense relief swept over me as I realised that fear had changed places across that table. I no longer dreaded my own cowardice.
“Let me go now, effendi, and I will await my share till the Captain come. It is now morning, he will be here to-day.”
“If you move, I will fire.”
I was aware of an extraordinary feeling within me. It was an intense desire to pull that trigger and kill him. It was blood-lust. It had never visited me before, and I felt it now as an intolerable temptation.
Jakoub saw it in my face. I saw it reflected by the terror in his eyes.
“Do not, effendi,” he moaned, and I pitied him. The desire for his life faded out.
“In an hour it will be day,” he argued. “The people will awake. If I am found here there will be plenty questions. It is not wise, effendi!”
I reached out with my left hand and took his knife from the table.
“To cut strings only,” he repeated.