He shrunk back.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.—I don’t want the thing.—Take it away.’
‘Think twice,—the chance may not recur.’
‘I tell you I don’t want it.’
‘Sure?—Consider!’
‘Of course I’m sure!’
‘Then the cat shall have it.’
‘Let the poor brute go!’
‘The poor brute’s going,—to the land which is so near, and yet so far. Once more, if you please, attention. Notice what I do with this toy gun. I pull back the spring; I insert this small glass pellet; I thrust the muzzle of the gun through the opening in the glass box which contains the Apostle’s cat,—you’ll observe it fits quite close, which, on the whole, is perhaps as well for us.—I am about to release the spring.—Close attention, please.—Notice the effect.’
‘Atherton, let the brute go!’