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Updated: May 29, 2025
Captain Malu's blue eyes looked at it unswervingly. "Would you mind pointing it in some other direction?" he asked. "It's perfectly safe," Bertie assured him. "I withdrew the magazine. It's not loaded now, you know." "A gun is always loaded." "But this one isn't." "Turn it away just the same."
Captain Malu's blue eyes looked at it unswervingly. "Would you mind pointing it in some other direction?" he asked. "It's perfectly safe," Bertie assured him. "I withdrew the magazine. It's not loaded now, you know." "A gun is always loaded." "But this one isn't." "Turn it away just the same."
"That loads it and cocks it, you see. And then all I have to do is pull the trigger, eight times, as fast as I can quiver my finger. See that safety clutch. That's what I like about it. It is safe. It is positively fool-proof." He slipped out the magazine. "You see how safe it is." As he held it in his hand, the muzzle came in line with Captain Malu's stomach.
Captain Malu's voice was flat and metallic and low, but his eyes never left the muzzle until the line of it was drawn past him and away from him. "I'll bet a fiver it isn't loaded," Bertie proposed warmly. The other shook his head. "Then I'll show you." Bertie started to put the muzzle to his own temple with the evident intention of pulling the trigger.
Captain Malu's little finger, which was broken, had more inevitableness in it than Bertie Arkwright's whole carcass. But then, the lady tourists had nothing by which to judge save appearances, and Bertie certainly was a fine-looking man. Bertie talked with Captain Malu in the smoking room, confiding to him his intention of seeing life red and bleeding in the Solomons.
Captain Malu's voice was flat and metallic and low, but his eyes never left the muzzle until the line of it was drawn past him and away from him. "I'll bet a fiver it isn't loaded," Bertie proposed warmly. The other shook his head. "Then I'll show you." Bertie started to put the muzzle to his own temple with the evident intention of pulling the trigger.
"That loads it, and cocks it, you see. And then all I have to do is pull the trigger, eight times, as fast as I can quiver my finger. See that safety clutch. That's what I like about it. It is safe. It is positively fool-proof." He slipped out the magazine. "You see how safe it is." As he held it in his hand, the muzzle came in line with Captain Malu's stomach.
Captain Malu's little finger, which was broken, had more inevitableness in it than Bertie Arkwright's whole carcass. But then, the lady tourists had nothing by which to judge save appearances, and Bertie certainly was a fine-looking man. Bertie talked with Captain Malu in the smoking-room, confiding to him his intention of seeing life red and bleeding in the Solomons.
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