"Now, Lawrence, be reasonable, I do beg of you. Let me make to you just this one remark."
Drawing closer, Mr. Bernstein dropped his voice to a whisper. Taking him by both shoulders, Lawrence began to shake him to and fro.
"Speak up, Bernstein, speak up! Shout, man, shout!"
"Don't Lawrence, you'll hurt me!"
"Hurt you! Hurt you! If I could only hurt you as you've hurt me, you pretty fellow! Why didn't you save your skin by taking to your heels? For me there's no salvation, because of her, and the face, and the words. But for you there was a chance. Now there's none! Now there's none!"
He flung the Jew away from him, so that he went reeling half across the room. Mr. Bernstein addressed himself, with stammering lips, to the inspector.
"Mr. Symonds, he's—he's not right in his head; he's excited—he's been drinking; look at those bottles!"
Lawrence threw out his arms with a laugh.
"Look at those bottles! Evidences of a giant's thirst! I'll have another!"
Taking a bottle of champagne out of the collection in the corner, with what looked like
