Page:Quiller-Couch--Old fires and profitable ghosts.djvu/61

Rh complicated." He rose, and walking to the fireplace, turned his back on me and spread his palms to the blaze. "Well," he asked, after a moment, gazing into the mirror before him, "why don't you shoot?"

I thrust my hands into my trouser-pockets and leaned back staring—I daresay sulkily enough—at the two revolvers within grasp. "I've got my code," I muttered.

"The code of—these mirrors. You won't do the thing because it's not the thing to do; because these fellows"—he waved a hand and the ghosts waved back at him—"don't do such things, and you haven't the nerve to sin off your own bat. Come"—he strolled back to his seat and leaned towards me across the table—"it's not much to boast of, but at this eleventh hour we must snatch what poor credit we can. You are, I suppose, a more decent fellow for not having fired: and I By the way, you did feel the temptation?"

I nodded. "You may put your money on that. I never see you without wanting to kill you. What's more, I'm going to do it."

"And I," he said, "knew the temptation and risked it. No: let's be honest about it. There was no risk: because, my good Sir, I know you to a hair."

"There was," I growled.

"Pardon me, there was none. I came here having a word to say to you, and these mirrors have taught me how to say it. Take a look at