There he paused, with a cold laugh, to listen to the frenzied cries and promises and curses and prayers of the man who dared not leave his cot—and with that Cranshaw slammed the door.
“Damned coward!” he muttered, opening the tantalus on the veranda and pouring himself a drink. “He’ll be fool enough to believe me, and be afraid to try rushing from the room—the damned coward! And precisely at two o’clock apoplexy or heart-failure will take him off, and Agnes collects the insurance. Well, I’m satisfied to call quits.”
And the soda shot hissing into the glass.
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 11, 1914 issue of All-Story Cavalier Weekly magazine.