"With pleasure, my man, if I knew it myself; but you see I don't."
Lumley gave him a savage frown.
"Think I'm going to believe that? Look here, I'm in a hurry, and you've just got to tell me all you know. If you don't, I'll—"
He lifted the revolver again with a significant gesture.
Gray did not speak for a moment. His hand might have trembled slightly as he stroked his moustache, but he showed no other sign of agitation. Lumley watched him narrowly.
"Ain't you goin' to tell me?" he said.
"Yes I am," said Gray; "on one condition."
"What's that?"
"Unload that pretty little weapon of yours, and hand it over to me. I don't trust you, you see, Mr. Lumley, alias Clay. You might find it convenient to leave this place all by yourself. Dead men tell no tales."
"Good for you they don't, ain't it?" Lumley answered darkly.