Paula crossed to him swiftly.
“What are you talking about?” she gulped. “What is it?”
“I haven’t time to tell you about it, now. Take my word for it that the Law will be here in a split-jiffy to arrest your brother for the murder of Bruce Maccunn and a half-dozen or so innocent bystanders. Let’s go first and talk about it afterwards...”
Sallust did not move. His eyes moved swiftly to his sister once, then back to Green.
He muttered: “No.”
Green stared at him blankly. “No? No what?”
Sallust shook his head a little. “I returned three days ago,” he said gently, “from the better part of five years in prison, I was as I believe you call it, framed. I was accused by lies, tried by lies, convicted by lies...”
He cleared his throat and straightened in the chair, gazed very intently at Green.
“I know you very slightly, Mister Green. I have been led to believe at one time or another that you are in some way sympathetic to our cause, but I have just returned from a painful five-year lesson in misplaced trust. I do not know what you are talking about, now, but I know that I have done no wrong and I shall stay exactly where I am.”
It was entirely silent for a moment and then Paula’s voice rang softly, tremulously: “Perhaps you’re making a mistake, John. Mister Green is—” She stopped.