entleman''s face. ''Dear girl, the fools were me and Mr Ibbs, to let you.''
Gentleman had taken his cigarette from his mouth to blow against its tip. Now, hearing Mrs Sucksby and meeting her gaze, he stood quite still for a second with it held before his lips. Then he looked away and laughed—a disbelieving sort of laugh—and shook his head.
''Sweet Christ,'' he said quietly.
I thought she had shamed him.
''All right,'' she said. ''All right.'' She lifted her hands. She stood, like a man on a raft—like she was afraid to make too sharp a move for fear of sinking. ''Now, no more wildness. John, no more sulks. Sue, put that knife down, please, I beg you. No-one is to be harmed. Mr Ibbs. Miss Lilly. Dainty. Charles—Sue''s pal, dear boy—sit down. Gentleman. Gentleman.''
''Mrs Sucksby,'' he said.
''No-one to be harmed. All right?''
He glanced at me. ''Tell it to Sue,'' he said. ''She is looking at me with murder in her eyes. Under the circumstances, I don''t quite care for that.''
''Circumstances?'' I said. ''You mean, your having locked me up in a madhouse and left me to die? I should cut your bloody head off!''
He narrowed his eyes, made a face. ''Do you know,'' he said, ''you have a very whining tone to your voice at times? Has no-one told you that?''
I made a lunge at him with the knife; but the truth was, I was still bewildered, and sick, and tired, and the lunge was a feeble one. He watched, not flinching, as I stood with the point of the blade before his heart. Then I grew afraid that the knife would shake and he would see it. I put it down. I put it down on the table—at the edge of the table, just beyond the circle of light that the lamp threw there.