“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.”
“Rehearse it. Let me show you how it works. We’ll go through it point by point—and if you can show me a weak spot, I’ll thank you with all my heart.”
As he spoke, eagerly and enthusiastically, but still almost in a whisper, the General had hurried across to the chair that held his ugly leather bag.
“See here!” He had opened his bag, and the electric light flashed upon the bright metal of a pistol. “Here—another one,” and the light flashed again. “A revolver for him and for me. Now help me to rehearse the trick. Here. Take your weapon. You see it’s open at the breech.”
He had come to the fireplace and was offering one of the two revolvers.
Mr. Ridsdale hesitated about taking it. “Really, you know, General, I doubt if I ought to encourage you in——”
“Catch hold. You’re not afraid of firearms, are you?” And the General smiled.
Mr. Ridsdale took the pistol, and the General hurried across the room to the door that led into the hall.
“Watch me carefully,” he whispered. “I am locking this door.”
For the second time the aspect of the pleasant, comfortable room had altered; the prettiest things in it looked ungraceful, grim, forbidding; its atmosphere—even the air one breathed—was different. What was happening in the room seemed dream-like, grotesque, quite unreal; and this sense of unreality involved one’s perception of the material, unaltered world outside the room. The sounds of music floated towards one as if from an immeasurable distance.
But probably the queer notion of unsubstantiality in surrounding objects was directly caused by the strangeness and oddness of the General’s antics. He was no longer himself; he was a person acting a part—as it would be acted on a brilliantly lighted stage.
“See!” he whispered, as he came creeping back towards the leather bag. “I have manœuvred you into the worst possible position. I have cut you off from escape. That door is locked. This door I guard.”
One could hear one’s heart beating above the far-off ripple of the music.
“Watch me,” said the General. “Never take your eyes off my hands. See! Here are six cartridges—and I put them down, so—on your side of the table.” He stepped back swiftly and cautiously. “See! Here are six cartridges for me—on my side of the table.” And he sprang away, to his old post in front of the drawing-room door. “It is all fair play. I give as good a chance as I take myself. We stand at equal lengths from our ammunition. You follow it all, don’t you? You catch my meaning?”