His attitude, which had been one of baffled rage, relaxed.

As Cleggett paused the sneer came back upon Loge's lips.
"Boob," he said quietly, "boob is the word.

Look above you." A sharp metallic click overhead gave point to Loge's words.

Looking up, Cleggett saw that a trap-door had opened in the ceiling, and through the aperture Pierre, who had left the room some moments before with the bartender, was pointing a revolver, which he had just cocked, at Cleggett's head.

He sighted along the barrel with an eager, anticipatory smile upon his face; Pierre would, no doubt, have preferred to see a man boiled in oil rather than merely shot, but shooting was something, and Pierre evidently intended to get all the delight possible out of the situation.
Cleggett's own pistol was within an inch of Loge's stomach.
"I was willing to pay you real money," said Loge, "for the sake of peace.