"Wait!" Snithian shrilled. "I can make you a rich man, Slane."
"Not by stealing paintings."
"You don't understand. This is more than petty larceny!"
"That's right. It's grand larceny. These pictures are worth thousands."
"I can show you things that will completely change your attitude. Actually, I've acted throughout in the best interests of humanity!"
Dan gestured with the gun. "Don't plan anything clever. I'm not used to guns. This thing will go off at the least excuse, and then I'd have a murder to explain."
"That would be an inexcusable blunder on your part!" Snithian keened. "I'm a very important figure, Slane." He crossed the deep-pile rug to a glass-doored cabinet. "This," he said, taking out a flat black box, "contains a fortune in precious stones." He lifted the lid. Dan stepped closer. A row of brilliant red gems nestled in a bed of cotton.
"Rubies?"
"Flawless—and perfectly matched." Snithian whinnied. "Perfectly matched. Worth a fortune. They're yours, if you cooperate."
"You said you were going to change my attitude. Better get started."