They opened the door, and stood side by side within the frame to receive him, Conacher with his gun across his arm. At sight of the gun Moale’s eyes narrowed, but he made no reference to it in speech. Bowing to Loseis, he said in his gentle voice:
“Mr. Gault wishes to know if he may speak with you?”
“But why not?” said Loseis coolly. “Speech is free.”
“If he comes unarmed,” added Conacher grimly.
Moale stabbed him with a lightning glance of his strange eyes, but did not speak. Bowing to Loseis again, he turned and went back to Gault.
Loseis and Conacher remained standing in the doorway. The girl said earnestly:
“Paul dear, when he comes, you must hold your anger in.”
“I’m not going to truckle to him,” said Conacher, angry already.
“Of course not! If we showed fear we would be lost. But if we become angry they will use it as an excuse to attack us, and we will be lost, too. We must show neither fear nor anger, but only coldness. My heart tells me that.”
“Oh, you’re right, of course,” groaned Conacher; “but you’re asking almost too much of flesh and blood!”