“Tell you what, old man,” said he, rather apologetically. “I'm all out of sorts. Guess I need the outside air. You don't mind, do you?”
“Yes,” I replied, with a ring in my voice that was surprising even to myself. “I do mind. I've got something to say to you.”
“Don't talk about that,” said he, and walked to the open window, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
“But I will talk about it, Crocker. It is what I came here to talk about. And I propose to make you talk about it, also.”
He offered no reply; just stood there, staring out the window. I went on. I don't know now where the words were coming from that rushed so unexpectedly to my lips; but I knew, as I uttered them, that before either of us should leave that room he would be taking me seriously.
“There is a woman over yonder, in the Hôtel de Chine,” I said “From your own confession to me, you have followed her here to kill her. There is nobody but me to talk to you, but you are not going to dispose of me so easily. This thing is going to be settled. It is going to be settled to-day—and without any killing, We are not living in that sort of an age, Crocker. Not quite.”
“What do you mean—settled?” he muttered, without turning.
“Settled. Just that. And there won't be any murder. You and I are going to arrange terms of separation between Heloise and yourself. Then you are going home. You will leave this city before night. You may go either way—Tientsin or Hankow; it is the same to me. But you've got to go.... Will you please sit down here and try to discuss this thing like a rational man?”
Now he did turn.
“I suppose you think you can talk to me like this,” he said, with something of a sneer.