Life has too many disappointments for that. Have you not read Marcus
Aurelius?"

"Have you reloaded your snuff box?" I asked him.

"Not that," he said, shaking his head, "but I know a hundred ways to
disarm a man, otherwise I should not be here witnessing this original
situation. My son, I could have killed you half a dozen times since you
have been holding that weapon."

"Admitted," I answered, "but I hardly think you will go to such lengths.
We all must pause somewhere, father."

"No," he agreed, "unfortunately I am of a mild disposition, and yet--"
he made a sudden move toward me--"Do you realize your weapon is
unprimed?"

"Shall I try it?" I asked.

"Excellent!" said my father. "You impress me. Yes, I have underrated your
possibilities, Henry. However, the play is over--"

He leaned towards the table abruptly and extinguished both the candles.
The glow of embers in the fireplace could not relieve the darkness of the
shuttered room.

"Now," he continued, "Mademoiselle is standing beside me, and Brutus is
between you and me and approaching you. I think it would be safer if you
put the pistol down. One's aim is uncertain in the dark, and, after all,
it is not Mademoiselle's quarrel. Tell him to put down the pistol,