You don't care about trifling
with Eternity, eh? Very well, I will find the place for you."
Hilditch's fingers strayed along his shirt-front until he found
a certain spot. Then he leaned the dagger against it, his
forefinger and second finger pressed against the hilt. His eyes
were fixed upon his guest's. He seemed genuinely interested.
Francis, glancing away for a moment, was suddenly conscious of
a new horror. The woman had leaned a little forward in her
easy-chair until she had attained almost a crouching position.
Her eyes seemed to be measuring the distance from where she sat
to that quivering thread of steel.
"You see, Ledsam," his host went on, "that point driven now at
that angle would go clean through the vital part of my heart.
And it needs no force, either--just the slow pressure of these
two fingers. What did you say, Margaret?" he enquired, breaking
off abruptly.
The woman was seated upon the very edge of her chair, her eyes
rivetted upon the dagger. There was no change in her face, not a
tremor in her tone.
"I said nothing," she replied. "I did not speak at all. I was
just watching."
Hilditch turned back to his guest.
"These two fingers," he repeated, "and a flick of the wrist
--very little more than would be necessary for a thirty yard putt
right across the green.
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