my pistol ready. If you raise your hands to your head to remove that eyeshade, I shoot. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear,” said Tommy. He was rather pale, but determined. “I haven’t got a dog’s chance, I suppose?”
“Oh! that—” the other shrugged his shoulders.
“Damned ingenious devil, aren’t you?” said Tommy. “But you’ve forgotten one thing. May I light a cigarette, by the way? My poor little heart’s going pit a pat.”
“You may light a cigarette—but no tricks. I am watching you, remember, with the pistol ready.”
“I’m not a performing dog,” said Tommy. “I don’t do tricks.” He extracted a cigarette from his case, then felt for a match box. > “It’s all right. I’m not feeling for