Mr. White had half risen and was about to add, "but to arrest you," when, with a rapidity known only to those accustomed to "draw" from boyhood, Corbett whipped a revolver from a hip pocket and covered the bridge of White's nose with the muzzle. "Just you sit still, right there, Mr. White of Scotland Yard, or I will let daylight through you and your nameless friend if he interferes. You'd better believe me. By gad! I won't speak twice." Neither White nor his companion were cowards. But they were quite helpless. They had not grappled with the circumstances with sufficient alertness, and they were utterly at this man's mercy. They were away from the door, and a table separated them from Corbett, while there was that in his eye which told them he would shoot if either of them moved. They both sprang to their feet, and glared at him impotently. "Now, gentlemen," said Corbett, with the utmost coolness, "let me persuade you to sit down again and go on with your story, which interests me." White was scarlet with wrath and annoyance. "Let me tell you--" he roared. "Sit down!" "Make the best of it, Jim," murmured the other policeman; and the queer gathering resumed their seats. "That's better," said Corbett genially. "Now, we'll have a nice little chat. Am I correct in supposing that you were about to march me off to jail just now, when I spoilt the proposition?" "There's no use in resisting," growled White. "You cannot escape. If you have an atom of sense left you will come with us quietly, as it's all up with you." "It looks like it," said Corbett, with a grim smile. "But if it's so bad a case as all that, there's no desperate hurry, is there?" "You're only making matters more difficult for yourself." "Maybe. But as I happen to be a citizen of the United States, I allow that I can't be whipped off to prison just because a fool like you thinks it's good for me. I've been a law-abiding man all my life, and I've lived in places where each man made his own law. If you can show good cause for your action, I'll stand the racket. At present I regard you as a blamed idiot." The situation overcame the detective. He could only mutter: "Time will show who's the idiot." "I'm getting hungry, Mr. White of Scotland Yard, and I've a kind of notion that the old lady is ready with the eatables. Will you be good enough to say what you're after?" "I came here to ask you to account for your movements, and, failing a satisfactory explanation, to arrest you." "On what charge?" "For being concerned in the murder of Lady Dyke, on or about November 6 last." "Lady Dyke?" "Yes." "Arrest _me_?" "Yes." "I placed you right away. You are a blamed idiot, Mr. White of Scotland Yard." This repetition of his name and address goaded the detective almost beyond endurance. "Now you know the charge," he shouted, "are you coming with us quietly, or--" "Or what?" The revolver still hovered across the table. "Are we going to sit here all night?"