Graham Greene by The Spy's Bedside Book

six-chambered Colt in his hand, and the muzzle was pointed at a little lean, wiry, black-muzzled, close-cropped Frenchman, who had begun to wriggle uneasily in his seat the moment Max had made his appearance. His black eyes rolling in their deep sockets took one frightened glance from face to face, and then he said, in a voice to which he in vain tried to impart a tone of bravado:
    â€œWell, Comrade Renault, what do you want with me, and what is that revolver drawn for?”
    â€œDon’t ‘comrade’ me, you little rat,” said Max, with a short, savage laugh. “Tell me who tried to warn the Paris police that Carnot’s life was in danger. Tell me who would have had Santo arrested at Marseilles if his telegram had only got into the hands it was intended for.
    â€œTell me who means to repeat the message tomorrow morning to Paris and Lyons, and who means to have this place raided by the English police at an inconvenient hour within the next week, on the ground of unlawful gambling being permitted here. Tell me that, you dirty hound, and then I’ll tell you, if you don’t know, what we usually do with traitors.”
    Berthauld sat for a moment speechless with fear. Then, with an imprecation on his lips, he leapt to his feet. Not a hand was moved to restrain him, but as he rose to his full height, Renault’s arm straightened out, there was a crack and a flash, and a little puff of plaster reduced to dust leapt out of the angle of the wall behind him; but before the bullet struck the wall, it had passed through his forehead and out at the back of his head, his body shrank together and collapsed in a huddled heap in his chair, and Max, putting his pistol back into his pocket, said, just as quietly as before:
    â€œIt’s a curious thing that even among eight of us we must have a traitor. I hope there aren’t any more about. Take thatthing down to the cellar, and then let us get to business; I’ve something important to tell you.”
    So saying, he walked round the table to a vacant armchair that stood at the end opposite the door, threw himself back in it, took out a cigar and lit it, and, with the same unshaken hand that a moment before had taken a fellow-creature’s life, poured out a tumblerful of champagne from a bottle that stood half-empty beside him …
    â€œI hope I haven’t shocked you by such a rough-and-ready administration of justice,” said Max, half-turning in his chair and addressing a girl who sat next to him on his right hand.
    â€œNo,” said the girl. “It was obviously necessary. If half you charged him with is true, he ought to have been crucified, let alone shot. I can’t think what such vermin are made for.”
    And as she spoke, she flicked the ash off a cigarette that she held between her fingers, put it between as dainty a pair of lips as ever were made for kissing, and sent a delicate little blue wreathing cloud up to mingle with the haze that filled the upper part of the room.
    GEORGE GRIFFITH

16. “THAT INDEED IS TO DIE”
    umph!” ejaculated the pedlar; “there is something particular indeed to be seen behind the thicket on our left—turn your head a little, and you may see and profit by it too.”
    Henry eagerly seized this permission to look aside, and the blood curdled to his heart as he observed that they were passinga gallows, that unquestionably had been erected for his own execution—he turned his face from the sight in undisguised horror.
    â€œThere is a warning to be prudent in that bit of wood,” said the pedlar, in the sententious manner that he often adopted.
    â€œIt is a terrific sight, indeed!” cried Henry, for a moment veiling his eyes with his hand, as if to drive a vision from before him.
    The pedlar moved his body partly around, and spoke with energetic but gloomy bitterness—“and yet, Captain Wharton, you see it where the setting sun shines full