"Or in New York," the American amended.
"England is yet to be heard from," Lanyard suggested mockingly.
To this Wertheimer replied, almost with diffidence: "If you ask me, I don't think you'd find it so jolly pleasant over there, if you mean to cut up nasty at this end."
"Then what am I to infer? If you're afraid to lay an information against me—and it wouldn't be wise, I admit—you'll merely cause me to be assassinated, eh?"
"Not of necessity," the Count murmured in the same thoughtful tone and manner—as one holding a hidden trump.
"There are so many ways of arranging these matters," Wertheimer ventured.
"None the less, if I refuse, you declare war?"
"Something like that," the American admitted.
"In that case—I am now able to state my position definitely." Lanyard got up and grinned provokingly down at the group. "You can—all four of you—go plumb to hell!"
"My dear friend!" the Count cried, shocked—"you forget—"