"That's Sir Gilbert's brand-new car that's all ready for me down the stairs; and as I say, whether it's storm or no storm, I must be away.

And there's just two things I can do, Moneylaws--I can lay you out on the floor here, with your brains running over your face, or I can--trust to your honour!" We looked at each other for a full minute in silence--our eyes meeting in the queer, bluish light of the electric pocket-lamp which he had set on the table before us.

Between us, too, was that revolver--always pointing at me out of its one black eye.
"If it's all the same to you, Mr.Hollins," said I at length, "I'd prefer you to trust to my honour.

Whatever quality my brains may have, I'd rather they were used than misused in the way you're suggesting! If it's just this--that you want me to hold my tongue--" "I'll make a bargain with you," he broke in on me.

"You'd be fine and glad to see your sweetheart, Moneylaws, and assure yourself that she's come to no harm, and is safe and well ?" "Aye! I would that!" I exclaimed.