“How do I know? Hasn’t she?”
“No. I haven’t any friends either. We don’t want friends.” Was Sydney threatening him in a subtle way? George wondered uneasily.
“If I knew who she was sleeping with, I’d mark him for life,” Sydney said viciously.
George suddenly felt sick. He remembered the razor blade set in the cork handle and how Sydney had slashed Robinson’s face. He remembered particularly the lightning movement that Sydney had made: a movement impossible to avoid.
“Well, I delivered the message,” he said, cutting up his beef with exaggerated interest. “That’s all you wanted me to do, wasn’t it? I don’t know anything about anything else.”
“Yes, George,” Sydney said softly. “That’s all I wanted you to do—deliver the message.”
“Well, that’s what I did,” George said shortly.
“She won’t stay out again in a hurry,” Sydney muttered, half to himself.
Immediately George became alarmed. Had he done anything to her? He suddenly lost his nervousness of Sydney. The thought that this vicious thug might have hurt her enraged him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, turning on Sydney.