MR. Y. That is my secret.
MR. X. May I look at you?—You think of writing an anonymous letter to my wife, disclosing my secret.
MR. Y. Yes, and you cannot prevent it. You dare not have me imprisoned, so you must let me go; and when I have gone I can do what I please.
MR. X. Ah, you devil! You've struck my Achilles heel—will you force me to become a murderer?
MR. Y. You couldn't become one! You timid creature!
MR. X. You see, then, there is a difference in people after all, and you feel within you that I cannot commit such deeds as you, and that is your advantage. But think if you forced me to deal with you as I did with the coachman!
[Lifts his hand as if to strike. Mr. Y. looks hard at Mr. X.]
MR. Y. You can't do it. He who dared not take his salvation out of the case couldn't do that.
MR. X. Then you don't believe that I ever took from the case?
MR. Y. You were too cowardly, just as you were too cowardly to tell your wife that she is married to a murderer.