"There you are," he said, and made another circle near the first
one. "Now you put a bullet into the middle of this circle and I'll
put one afterwards through the second circle, and the one who is
nearest to the dots I've marked, wins. What have you to say to that?
Seems to me better than our killing each other. Isn't it?"
"I think you're playing the fool for some reason of your own,"
answered Rupert. "There's only one thing I want to know from you.
Where is Ella?"
"Let me know how you can shoot," answered Deede Dawson, "and I'll
tell you, by all that's holy, I will."
Rupert hesitated. He did not understand all this, he could not
imagine what motive was in Deede Dawson's mind, though it was
certainly true enough that once they began shooting at each other
neither man was at all likely to survive, for Rupert knew he would
not miss and he did not think Deede Dawson would either.
Above all, there was the one thing he wished to know, the one
consideration that weighed with him above all others--what had
become of Ella? And this time there had been in Deede Dawson's
voice an accent of twisted and malign sincerity that seemed to
say he really would be willing to tell the truth about her if
Rupert would gratify his whim about this sort of shooting-match
that he was suggesting.
The purpose of it Rupert could not understand, but it did not seem
to him there would be any risk of harm in agreeing, for Deede
Dawson was standing so far away from his own weapon he could not
well be contemplating any immediate mischief or treachery.
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