"Don't be an infernal idiot!" he answered, flicking the dust off one of the gilt chairs, and afterwards cleaning a space for his elbow on the looking-glass table. "It takes only two sorts to make the world we've lived in, and that's you and I." He gazed slowly round the walls. "You and I, and a few fellows like us--not to mention the women, who don't count." "Well," said I, "as far as the world goes--if you must discuss it-- I always found it a good enough place." "Because you started as an unconsidering fool: and because, afterwards, when we came to grips, you were the under-dog, and I gave you no time. My word--how I have hustled you!" I yawned. "All right: I can wait. Only if you suppose I came here to listen to your moral reflections--" He pulled the cigar from between his teeth and looked at me along it. "I know perfectly well why you came here," he said slowly, and paused. "Hadn't we better have it out--with the cards on the table?" He drew a small revolver from his pocket and laid it with a light clink on the table before him. I hesitated for a moment, then followed his example, and the silent men around us did the same. A smile curled his thin lips as he observed this multiplied gesture. "Yes," he said, as if to himself, "that is what it all comes to." "And now," said I, "since you know my purpose here, perhaps you will tell me yours." "That is just what I am trying to explain. Only you are so impatient, and it--well, it's a trifle complicated." He puffed for a moment in silence. "Roughly, it might be enough to say that I saw you standing outside my house a while ago; that I needed a talk with you alone, in some private place; that I guessed, if you saw me, you would follow with no more invitation; and that, so reasoning, I led you here, where no one is likely to interrupt us." "Well," I admitted, "all that seems plain sailing." "Quite so; but it's at this point the thing grows 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."