The brilliant eyes sparkled with amusement. "Dear old Carstairs! It's not bad for a first attempt, but you were not built for a liar. It needs practice, Carstairs! Constant practice. That man is dumb. I cut his tongue before I utilized him for these little missions. Ha! Ha! I'm always willing to learn from the experience of others. Old Donovan was bowled out by a tongue, I removed it; swotted up the literature on the subject, and removed it myself; the human body is a fascinating machine, better than greasy engines. What's the next move, old chap?" His smile was the most charming he had ever worn.
Carstairs toyed with the revolver, keeping his eye on him all the time. "I think," he said, at length, "that as a duty to civilization I ought to wipe you out here and now."
"My dear chap, how absurd! What's civilization done for you? Nothing! Yes, by Jove, it has though, a service of a negative value. Civilization has made you a poor man! As a savage, you would have been a chief! Don't make yourself a bigger ass than nature intended, Carstairs, old chap! If I go, you go too, and there's the girl, eh? The girl we scrapped over. The girl who kissed you on the cheek; I saw her do it, and you blushed like a kid. She'd be left all alone. Now let's talk this matter over quietly."
Carstairs looked him steadily in the eyes, toying meanwhile with the revolver. "Do you know," he said, "that that girl is your sister?"
HE LOOKED ROUND, TO MEET THE GRIM GREY EYES OF CARSTAIRS
Darwen doubled up with sudden laughter; in the intensity of it he almost rolled into the fireplace. A sudden click pulled him up; he looked round solemnly to meet the grim, grey eye of Carstairs gazing at him along the revolver barrel; he had cocked it with his thumb.
"Damn it! You're not going to assassinate me, old chap."
"Come away from that poker! This is a six shot, a Colt's forty-four, and every shot means a dead man. With it cocked as I have it, I can't miss at this distance."