He returned, and as he sat down I noticed that the lower part of his surtout was open.  He always wore a long frogged and braided coat reaching to the knees—­as I now know, for the purpose of concealing the arm which hung (as he said, withered) at his side.  The two last fastenings were now undone.

He held in his hand a tiny chain made of very delicate wire.  This he gave me, saying: 

“Now what would you conjecture that to be?”

“Had it come into my hands without any remark, I should have said it was simply a very exquisite bit of ironwork; but your question points to something more out of the way.”

“It is iron-work,” he said.

Could I be deceived?  A third fastening of his surtout was undone!  I had seen but two a moment ago.

“And what am I to conjecture?” I asked.

“Where that iron came from?  It was not from a mine.”  I looked at it again, and examined it attentively.  On raising my eyes in inquiry—­fortunately with an expression of surprise, since what met my eyes would have startled a cooler man—­I saw the fourth fastening undone!

“You look surprised,” he continued, “and will be more surprised when I tell you that the iron in your hands once floated in the circulation of a man.  It is made from human blood.”

“Human blood!” I murmured.

He went on expounding the physiological wonders of the blood,—­how it carried, dissolved in its currents, a proportion of iron and earths; how this iron was extracted by chemists and exhibited as a curiosity; and how this chain had been manufactured from such extracts.  I heard every word, but my thoughts were hurrying to and fro in the agitation of a supreme moment.  That there was a dagger underneath that coat—­that in a few moments it would flash forth—­ that a death-struggle was at hand,—­I knew well.  My safety depended on presence of mind.  That incalculable rapidity with which, in critical moments, the mind surveys all the openings and resources of an emergency, had assured me that there was no weapon within reach—­that before I could give an alarm the tiger would be at my throat, and that my only chance was to keep my eyes fixed upon him, ready to spring on him the moment the next fastening was undone, and before he could use his arm.

At last the idea occurred to me, that as, with a wild beast, safety lies in attacking him just before he attacks you, so with this beast my best chance was audacity.  Looking steadily into his face, I said slowly: 

“And you would like to have such a chain made from my blood.”  I rose as I spoke.  He remained sitting, but was evidently taken aback.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“I mean,” said I, sternly, “that your coat is unfastened, and that if another fastening is loosened in my presence, I fell you to the earth.”

“You’re a fool!” he exclaimed.

I moved towards the door, keeping my eye fixed upon him as he sat pale and glaring at me.