You would never
have been so outrageously clumsy."
West shrugged his shoulders.
"I am quite sane--only a little out of practice."
His words were like a shower of icy water. Babbacombe contracted
instantly.
"You wish me to believe that you did this thing in cold blood--that you
deliberately meant to do it?"
"Certainly I meant to do it," said West.
"Why?" said Babbacombe.
Again he gave the non-committal shrug, no more. There was almost a
fiendish look in his eyes, as if somewhere in his soul a demon leaped
and jeered.
"Tell me why," Babbacombe persisted.
"Why should I tell you?" said West.
Babbacombe hesitated for an instant; then gravely, kindly, he made
reply:
"For the sake of the friendship that has been between us. I had not the
faintest idea that you were in need of money. Why couldn't you tell me?"
West made a restless movement. For the first time his hard stare shifted
from Babbacombe's face.
"Why go into these details?" he questioned harshly. "I warned you at the
outset what to expect. I am a swindler to the backbone. The sooner you
bundle me back to where I came from, the better. I sha'n't run away this
time."
"I shall not prosecute," Babbacombe said.
"You will not!" West blazed into sudden ferocity. He had the look of a
wild animal at bay. "You are to prosecute!" he exclaimed violently. "Do
you hear? I won't have any more of your damned charity! I'll go down
into my own limbo and stay there, without let or hindrance from you or
any other man.
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