“Don’t think me a coward for locking the door, General,” he said, as he shook hands. “This is a pretty bad gang that I am dodging.”
The General’s comment was to turn and relock the door himself, after a critical glance at the sawn panel. “I have spent my life in breaking up bad gangs,” he said, when he had taken the chair indicated. “I am a bit rusty with disuse, but I should very much like to try conclusions with this one. From what I hear, they must be worthy of anyone’s steel.”
Beaumanoir indulged in a careworn smile.
“Three attempts in forty-eight hours speaks to their zeal, at any rate,” he replied. “But seriously, General, you start badly handicapped,” he went on. “I don’t even know that I want them broken up, as you call it, for there must be no publicity. I can give you no clues nor answer any questions. All I ask of your great experience is how to thwart a determined hankering after my poor life—a hankering which may possibly cease if I survive for another week.”
“You positively decline to give me any assistance?”
[115]
