Arden kicked Joe aside: "Keep your diseased hands off him, traitor."
Joe got wearily to his feet. "Arden," he said, "Bairn told me how upset you are about your wife. That's why I excused those slaps. But this—"
Joe's right arm drew back swiftly, drove his doubled fist to Arden's jaw. Arden dropped as if the floor had fallen from under him.
"That tears it, Joe," Bairn said. "I'm sorry, Joe. But we have no recourse but to lock you up. You're a walking plague, and socking Arden was the last straw."
From the floor, Burnet said weakly: "But Arden had it coming...."
"We can't be the judge of that. Joe is worth no consideration now. Don, lock Joe up in one of the empty storage rooms, but don't get near him."
"Right," said Timnson, the mathematician. "Come on, Wilding."
Joe started to move away, stopped and said:
"See that one of the twins looks after Paul, will you?"
"Go on," said Bairn. Joe went ahead of Timnson.