"No."
"But you will!"
The Amiable was really extremely exacting.
"Thanks. Good morning."
Jerry locked the door, and put his back to it. Then he softly said, "You've come home and taken my liquor; you flirt with my sister, and you're going away without leaving so much as a bit of gold. I'm not such a fool as Blackey. I know your aunt. I can send a newspaper to her address, and cook your goose. Suppose I make a row. I can do that, and we'll both be taken up for brawling outside a house of ill-fame. It won't matter to me; I'm used to it. But you'll be spoofed. Now, share up with an old pal, and I'll keep dark."
I had contrived to edge away from him, and I had time to produce the detestable firearm in a leisurely way.
"You're very kind, Jerry, my lad. I'll stay at this side of the room, and I shan't fire so long as you keep still. If you try to strike or put your hand in your pocket I shall pull on you; If you care to raise your arms over your head and move to the right-hand corner of the room I'll go quietly."
Jerry reckoned up all the chances and finally edged away from the door.
"Hands up, Jerry."
He obeyed, and I escaped into the street. Jerry is a coward at bottom, or he might have known that I dare not fire.