"Then why not throw the thing away? You're far more scared of it than I am."
A sweet, slow smile turned up the edges of her mouth. "My orders were to keep you here, if once I'd managed to persuade you inside."
He laughed outright. "You hate having me here, and you'd hate to see me go. Isn't that the way the land lies? I'm more or less in the same fix: I didn't want to come, and I don't want to stay. The fact remains that we're both here. Why not make the best of it? If you'll stop brandishing that weapon, I'll feel much more comfortable. I'm not trying to escape."
For the first time he dared to shift his position. "Don't be alarmed," he warned her. "That's easier. I was stiff. Now, if you'll listen, I've a proposal to make. You're treating me like a burglar, which isn't fair. You may know, but I've not the least idea how long you intend to hold me prisoner. I guess you're waiting for some one else to arrive, but that's neither here nor there. Before the third person comes, you may have shot me--of course, by accident. Revolvers go off if you keep them too long pointed. You know nothing about firearms, and I'm beginning to be rather fond of life. Here's what I propose: if you'll put it away, I'll give you my parole not to come within two yards of you or to attempt to escape. If I want my parole back, you shall have a full five minutes' notice."
Without answering, placing her weapon on the mantelpiece, she turned her back on him. She seemed waiting to hear him advance further into the room. He did not stir.
"It's that I've just remembered one thing for which our armistice has not provided. You'd better pick up your gun again. It's that I haven't dined. I wonder whether you'd let me into the village--" He left his sentence unended. He suddenly perceived that she was shaken with sobbing. In his concern, he forgot his compact as to distance and hurried over to her side. She swung round, her face blinded with tears. As she stumbled past him, she muttered: "You've beaten me. You're not afraid. I couldn't shoot you now if I wanted."
Tiptoeing to the threshold, he turned the handle and peeped into the passage. As before, everything was in darkness.
He was free to go. There was nothing to stop him--nothing except his honor. It was easy to argue that even his honor did not prevent him. He had canceled his parole when he had reopened negotiations by telling her to pick up her revolver. She had left it behind her on the mantel-shelf. He took it in his hand and examined it. It was a repeater. Every chamber was loaded. He whistled softly--so she had meant business! Setting the hammer at half-cock, he slipped the weapon in his pocket. He was master of the situation now.