“Surely, sir, you do me strange injustice!” said I, now the master of myself. “You see me sitting here, a monument of tranquillity: pray may I help myself to wine without umbraging you?”
I took this attitude in sheer despair. I had no plan, no hope. The best I could imagine was to spin the business out some minutes longer, then capitulate. At least, I would not capitulate one moment too soon.
“Am I to take that for no?” he asked.
“Referring to your former obliging proposal?” said I. “My good sir, you are to take it, as you say, for ‘No.’ Certainly I will not show you my deeds; certainly I will not rise from table and trundle out to see your magistrates. I have too much respect for my digestion, and too little curiosity in justices of the peace.”
He leaned forward, looked me nearly in the face, and reached out one hand to the bell-rope. “See here, my fine fellow!” said he. “Do you see that bell-rope? Let me tell you, there’s a boy waiting below: one jingle, and he goes to fetch the constable.”
“Do you tell me so?” said I. “Well, there’s no accounting for tastes! I have a prejudice against the society of constables, but if it is your fancy to have one in for the dessert——” I shrugged my shoulders lightly. “Really, you know,” I added, “this is vastly entertaining. I assure you, I am looking on, with all the interest of a man of the world, at the development of your highly original character.”
He continued to study my face without speech, his hand still on the button of the bell-rope, his eyes in mine; this was the decisive heat. My face seemed to myself to dislimn under his gaze, my expression to change, the smile (with which I had begun) to degenerate into the grin of the man upon the rack. I was besides harassed with doubts. An innocent man, I argued, would have resented the fellow’s impudence an hour ago; and by my continued endurance of the ordeal, I was simply signing and sealing my confession; in short, I had reached the end of my powers.
“Have you any objection to my putting my hands in my breeches pockets?” I inquired. “Excuse me mentioning it, but you showed yourself so extremely nervous a moment back.”
My voice was not all I could have wished, but it sufficed. I could hear it tremble, but the landlord apparently could not. He turned away, and drew a long breath, and you may be sure I was quick to follow his example.
“You’re a cool hand at least, and that’s the sort I like,” said he. “Be what you please, I’ll deal square. I’ll take the chaise for a hundred pound down, and throw the dinner in.”