"Well, that is possible. Indeed, I admit that you have seriously deranged my plans. But the trumps are mine, after all. With your intelligence you must be aware that you have a very short time to live."
"I don't doubt that, but I dispute your estimate of your hand."
"May I ask why?"
"With pleasure. I don't care twopence about my own life in comparison with my duty to society. You care a good deal for yours, and you also have a short time in front of you. If it is any satisfaction to you to know, you're in a net from which even the particular minor devils that preside over thieves can't free you."
Thus I lied bravely. A good deal, I thought, might depend on my ability to get the scoundrel into a furious rage, and, anyway, it was a delight to insult him.
A sharp breath told me that I had drawn blood.
"You use dangerous language, Sir John. You'll be sorry if you go on."
"Now, look here," I rapped out, in the tone I should have used to an impudent office boy, "please understand that you can't frighten me. I know that bounders of your type don't understand a gentleman and how he feels about things. I only assure you that you will waste your time. And time ought"—I said it with meaning—"to be worth more to you now than all the valuables you picked from the pockets of the Atlantis passengers."
He came up to me, and I thought that this was the moment. But he only tore the cloth from my head and returned to his chair.
I looked round with interest. The room, no doubt part of the cavern system into which the mine had penetrated, was matchboarded all round. The boarding was painted white, and a cluster of electrics hung from the ceiling. There was a carpet on the floor, a couple of arm-chairs, a writing-table, and a big steel safe. In one corner was another door than the entrance one, partly concealed by a green curtain hanging from a brass rod.