Jim Horton saw Moira turn from the window with startled eyes at Tricot's name, but he went on carelessly. "But here I am, and I'm not easy to kill, Mr. Quinlevin. If I came through at Boissière Wood I'm not likely to get hit now. So you'd better listen to me."
"I've been doing little else these ten minutes, Mr. Horton," said Quinlevin, yawning politely.
"I won't waste any more time than I can help, but when you promise Nora Burke five thousand pounds for telling a lie I want to give her her money's worth."
He turned to the old woman with a frown as he caught her off her guard but Quinlevin broke in quickly.
"See here, Horton, I've had about enough of this——"
The Irishman rose furiously, but Horton took a quick pace toward him.
"Keep your hands out of your pockets, Quinlevin," he shouted warningly. "I'm younger than you—and quicker. That's better. And Monsieur de Vautrin, you will please close the window. The interview is apt to be noisy."
The Irishman knew that he was no match in physical strength for the American, and so he sank into his chair again, Horton near him in a commanding position where he could watch Nora Burke. He was conscious of Moira's gaze from the corner by de Vautrin. She had not spoken but he knew that he had her attention again.
"Five thousand pounds for a lie," he said distinctly over Quinlevin's head. "That's true, isn't it, Nora?"
But the woman had had time to regain some of her composure after the sudden shock of his first accusation and turned on him defiantly.