“You likee killa him, eh?”
Perhaps unconscious that she did so, Mrs. Sin replied also in English:
“No, I am mad. Let me think, old fool!”
She dropped the stiletto and raised her hand dazedly to her brow.
“You gotchee tired of knifee chop, eh?” murmured Sin Sin Wa.
Mrs. Sin clenched her hands, holding them rigidly against her hips; and, nostrils dilated, she stared at the smiling Chinaman.
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
Sin Sin Wa performed his curious oriental shrug.
“You putta topside pidgin on Sir Lucy alla lightee,” he murmured. “Givee him hell alla velly proper.”
The pupils of the woman’s eyes contracted again, and remained so. She laughed hoarsely and tossed her head.