“So!” The Sergeant dropped the beads on the table. “Did you know of this, Mr. Carey?”
“No.”
“That’s right, too,” Arthur put in suddenly. “It was Little Miss Muffet here who wanted the canvas over the truck. Didn’t want him to see what she was up to.”
“For God’s sake, Miss Kolin!” George said angrily. “What do you think you’re playing at?”
She stood up resolutely, as if she were about to propose a vote of no-confidence at a public meeting, and turned to George. She did not even glance at Arthur or the Sergeant. “I should explain, Mr. Carey,” she said coldly, “that, in the interests of justice and in view of your refusal to take any steps yourself in the matter, I considered it my duty to telephone Colonel Chrysantos in Salonika and inform him, on your behalf, that the men who robbed the Eurasian Credit Bank were here. On his instructions, I marked the route from the culvert, so that his troops could …”
The Sergeant’s fist hit her full in the mouth and she crashed into the corner of the room where the empty bottles stood.
George leaped to his feet. As he did so the barrel of Arthur’s gun jabbed painfully into his side.
“Stand still, chum, or you’ll get hurt,” Arthur said. “She’s been asking for this and now she’s going to get it.”
Miss Kolin was on her knees, the blood trickling from her cut lip. They all stood watching her as she climbed slowly to her feet. Suddenly she picked up a bottle and flung it at the Sergeant. He did not move. It missed him by a few inches and smashed against the opposite wall. He stepped forward and hit her hard across the face with the back of his hand. She went down again. She had made no sound. She still made no sound. After a moment she began to get to her feet again.
“I’m stopping this,” said George angrily, and started to move.