"Cut out the melodrama," I said with a pretence of boredom, "and come back when you are sober. This is too important a matter to play with."
"You admit it!" he shouted. "I've beaten you at your own filthy game!" He turned and crashed two of my stewing beakers to the floor and trampled on the mess. "Not one of your experiments will work—I've ruined them all! You tried to trick me, but by God, you couldn't do it!"
"I know that you are a drunkard and a thief—and one or two other things—that you break your word and have neither honour nor loyalty." I was getting as eloquent as Prospero himself. "Still, you'll tell me that formula or you'll land in gaol."
"You can't prove anything against me—but I can prove you tried to steal my great discovery—it was there, in your notes, and I have a witness." He raved in his excitement, pacing the floor like a wild animal.
"What discovery?" I asked, as he bore down on me.
"The making of electricity direct from coal."
"Oh, hell!" I exclaimed. "I haven't had time to waste on moonshine. At your own request I recorded all your experiments, even when I didn't know what nonsense they were all about."
"I—I make nonsense—you ignorant—"
"Shut up! I want the Texas formula."
"You'll pay me my terms for it."