I presume you think that if you murder me here, your sailor friend will get the blame and you’ll be free to spend my money. Well, dear, you aren’t the only one who wants me to die. Our good friend, the District Attorney, is just itching to open a letter that I left with him. The letter tells all about you, lover. So you’d be foolish to fire that gun. With these mirrors, it’s difficult to tell. You are aiming at me, aren’t you? I’m aiming at you, lover. Of course, killing you is killing myself. It’s the same thing. But you know, I’m pretty tired of both of us.