“I doubt it.”
“An unloaded revolver! Ridsdale, don’t you see? I’ll give him an unloaded revolver, with six cartridges. I’ll have the same myself—and I’ll begin to load. When he sees me load he’ll know that he must do something if he means to save his skin. When he sees me load my weapon, he’ll load his weapon too. I shall watch him as a cat watches a mouse. If he raises his arm, up goes mine. If he fires, I fire. We bang at each other at the same moment.”
“Impossible.”
“Why impossible? If I get him alone he can’t help himself.”
“He’d treat you as a madman—give you in charge to the nearest policeman.”
“Oh, no, he wouldn’t. I’d get between him and the door.”
“Apart from the fact that it would be murder if you succeeded, you wouldn’t succeed.”
“I should. You don’t know how the pressure of immediate peril quickens people’s movements. Point by point I’d press him down the line I meant him to take. It’s so simple—not a weak spot in the infallible logic of the thing. The clock would be put back as rapidly as if destiny moved its hands.”
Ridsdale laughed again, very lightly.
“Look here,” said the General, eagerly, “try it. You don’t understand what I mean. Let me show you what I mean. Act it with me.”