"Then you don't fight at all," said Devereau.
Blair held him a long time with an eye that was chill. His voice was quieter than before, if that were possible.
"I have sat here and taken talk from you, you vermin, that I'd take from no man, because I could figure no other way. They know, downstairs, that you are up here with me. If I kill you they will hang me, and I do not choose to hang for one like you. If I laid a finger on you, that would be assault, and you and your friends would swear me into jail. That would be high card for you. It would fill your hand. So I must sit here idle. But some day, maybe, I'm going to come upon you with no circumstances to hinder. And if I do I'm going to change you. You do not please me, as you are. Some day I hope to alter you so that you will be a curio, even to your own best friends.… Get out!"
The chill eye had frightened Devereau. It heartened him to hear that he was safe.
"We'll put you out on the street," he snarled. "You'll be standing on a corner, wondering what it's all about!"
"Get out!"
Devereau got.