Phengaros was no longer looking at Miss Kolin now, but staring straight ahead.
There was a pause. George felt a touch on his arm. The Lieutenant drew him aside.
“Mr. Carey, this man does not wish to give information that might compromise his friends,” he said in English.
“Oh, I see. Of course.”
“Excuse me a moment, please.”
The Lieutenant went to the official and held a whispered conversation with him. Then he returned to George.
“The information might be obtained for you, Mr. Carey,” he murmured, “but it would take time to do so.”
“How do you mean?”
“This Phengaros is a difficult man to persuade, it seems, but, if you wish, some disciplinary pressure might be applied-”
“No, no.” George spoke hastily; his knees were beginning to tremble. “Unless he gives the information quite voluntarily it can have no legal value as evidence.” It was a dishonest excuse. Phengaros’s evidence had no legal value anyway; it was the evidence of eyewitnesses (if any) that would be important. But George could think of nothing better.