My friend, in my old trade the man lived longest who thought quickly and took no sentimental chances. I knew what she was after and crossed that room with the spring of a performing panther. Even then I was barely in time, for Léontine had snatched a revolver from the drawer of the desk and whirled about to face me.
But if she was quick, then I was quicker, and had her by both wrists. The little revolver flew out of her hand, whirled glittering across the room, and landed on a divan. My grip on her wrists tightened so that she gave a little cry of pain.
"Curse you!" she shrieked. "Let me go! Wait until Ivan hears of this!"
She leaned forward, thrusting her face almost in mine.
"You swine!" she snarled. "If Ivan guessed what was in your mind you'd never live to get home! You traitor!"
She went too far. All the criminality in me came blazing out.
"I'll wring Ivan's snipe neck, you cat!" I growled, "and I'll skin Chu-Chu with his own knife. Do you think you can scare me with your mob o' yellow crooks? Scare 'Tide-water Clam'? Do you think there's an ounce of scare in 'The Swell'? Did you think so when I stepped in front of you and took the bullet you would have got? You're up against an American, you slut, and, crook or no crook, he's good for you and your dago bunch." And with that, my friend, and perhaps I should shame to tell it, but I don't, I loosed her two wrists, shifted my grip like lightning to her soft, round shoulders, and shook
