E. R. Punshon

“ That he was uneasy was certain, for his cold eyes showed a hesitation and a doubt such as Rupert had never seen in them before.
“I'll tell you what's happened,” Rupert heard himself saying hoarsely. “If you'll tell me what's in there.”
“A bargain, eh?” Deede Dawson said. “It's easy enough. You can look for yourself if you unscrew the lid, but then, after all, why should we take all that trouble?”
As he spoke his pistol showed in his hand, and at once the heavy glass inkpot Rupert had held all this time flew straight and true, and with tremendous force, at Deede Dawson's head. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ Deede Dawson argued. “Here we are watching each other like cats, and knowing that the least movement of either will start the other off, and both of us pulling trigger as hard as we can. My idea would mean a chance for one. Well, let's try another way; the best shot to win. You don't trust me, but I will you.”
Leaving his pistol lying where he had put it down, he crossed the attic, and with a pencil he took from his pocket drew a circle on the panel of the wardrobe door that Rupert had split with the inkpot he had thrown. ”

“ 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. ”