The full, hard lips grudgingly released the monosyllable: "Why?"
"It recommended itself as the simplest way to seduce you into a conversation which I meant to have before morning whether you wanted it or not; furthermore, for me, by far the safest. Figure to yourself how much more secure I feel in my skin, meeting you here, the last place where you would have thought to find me . . ."
Morphew shifted slightly toward the door, a movement of impulse which he seemed to repent when he found Lanyard in the way. "I came here to have a talk with Mrs. McFee," he heavily stated, "at her invitation . . ."
"I have begged her to grant me the favour of a few minutes alone with you."
"I've nothing to say to you . . ."
"That places one of us at a deplorable disadvantage; for I have much to say to you, monsieur, and mean to say it."
"Suppose I don't care to listen . . ."
"It desolates me to feel obliged to inform you that, entirely by chance and contrary to my preference and habit, I happen to be armed."
"Seems to me I've heard"—a slow sneer darkened the face of uncouth ugliness—"it used to be your boast, 'The Lone Wolf never kills'."
"Monsieur says truly 'it used to be' . . . He will, moreover, wisely remind himself that the Lone Wolf is no more, his code, such as it was, is no sure guide to what Michael Lanyard may do when he fights for the right to live his own life in his own way."