ell inhaled leisurely. His muscles were tense, but he gave no outward sign. Instead, he sat down comfortably upon the arm of a chair facing Ribiera's. The only way to meet insolence is with equal insolence and a greater calm.
"Ah!" said Bell pleasantly. "So you found out it didn't work, after all!"
Ribiera's eyes contracted. He became suddenly enraged.
"You are trifling with me," he said furiously. "Do you know the penalty for that?"
"Why, yes," said Bell, and smiled amiably. "A dose of—er—poison of The Master's private brand."
It was a guess, but based on a good deal of evidence. Ribiera turned crimson, then pale.
"What do you know?" he demanded in a deadly quietness. "You cannot leave this place. You are aware of that. The people here—guests and servants—are my slaves, the slaves of The Master. You cannot leave this place except also as my slave. I will have you bound and given yagué so that you cannot fail to tell me anything that I wish to know. I will have you tortured so that you will gladly say anything that I wish, in return for death. I will—"
"You will," said Bell dryly, "drop dead with seven bullets in your body if you give a signal for anyone to attack me."