"I think you are the foulest man in the world," she said. "It makes me sick to be in the same room with you."
The gasp of fury and astonishment that broke from George's lips fell on my ears like music. He was so choking with rage that for a moment he could hardly speak.
"Damn you!" he stuttered at last. "So that's your real opinion, is it! That's what you've been thinking all along! Trying to use me to help that precious convict lover of yours—eh?"
I heard him come another step nearer.
"I'll make you pay for this, anyhow," he snarled. "Sick at being in the same room with me, are you? Then by God I'll give you some reason—"
With a swift jerk I flung open the door and stepped in over the threshold.
"Not this time, George dear," I said.
If the devil himself had shot up through the floor in a crackle of blue flame, I don't think it could have had a more striking effect on my late partner. With his mouth open and his face the colour of freshly mixed putty, he stood perfectly still in the centre of the room, gazing at me like a man in a trance. For a second—a whole beautiful rich second—he remained in this engaging attitude; then, as if struck by an electric shock, he suddenly spun round with the obvious intention of making a dart for the door.
The idea was distinctly a sound one, but it was too late to be of any practical value. Directly he moved I stepped in, and catching him a smashing box on the ear with my right hand sent him sprawling full length on the carpet. Joyce laughed gaily, while lounging across the room Tommy set his back against the door and beamed cheerfully on the three of us.
"Quite a little family party," he observed.