"Might I ask your business?" I asked as coolly as I could.
This question either aroused his anger, or he began to play a part. "Yes," he said; "you will know my business at your cost. I thought you had found out before this that I was not the man either to be disobeyed or trifled with."
I did not think it wise to speak.
"I have come to tell you," he went on, "that you cannot escape my power, that you cannot disobey me and not suffer. Remember this: I conquered you, and you are my slave."
Still I did not think it wise to reply.
"You think," he continued, "because you have realized some immunity from the power I wield, that I have left you. I have not, and it is greater than ever. You have dared to leave London; you have dared to do that which I told you not; and now I have come to tell you that you have aroused the anger of a man who laughs at conventional laws, and snaps his fingers at the ordinary usages of society—one who knows nothing and cares nothing for your claptrap morality, and will not be influenced by it."
"I am sorry if I have angered you," I replied humbly.
"Just so, and you will be more than sorry. Man, I hold your life in the hollow of my hand. One word from me, and your liberty is gone; you will be dragged through the streets like a common felon."
"Am I guilty of so much, then?" I said. "Did I really kill that man?"
He looked at me curiously, as if he suspected something. "Kill him?" he replied. "Of course you did. But even if you did not, it is all the same. Kaffar cannot be found, or proved alive, and thus my power over you is absolute."