Pete was in his dressing-gown, a towel over his arm. He stood by the window, looking out.
Two of his guards were playing gin rummy at a table away from the window. The third guard nursed a riot gun and watched Pete’s back with bored indifference.
At the sound of the door opening, Pete looked around. The two guards at the table stiffened, their hands moving to their hip pockets. The guard with the riot gun got to his feet.
“Okay, relax,” Conrad said, coming in. He was pleased to see how alert everyone was. “Some night, huh?”
“I’ll say,” the guard with the riot gun returned.
Conrad noticed Pete was looking past him at O’Brien, and there was an alert, quizzing look in Pete’s eyes. Conrad looked quickly at O’Brien. He was surprised to see how white and hard O’Brien’s face was, and there was a savage gleam in his eyes Conrad had never seen before.
“Well, come on,” O’Brien said, and he seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth. He walked out of the room and Pete followed him.
The two guards resumed their card game. The guard holding the riot gun groped for a cigarette.
Conrad stood hesitating, then he went after Pete.
Pete was walking just behind O’Brien, along the passage to the bathroom, which was down a few stairs and round a bend in the passage. They had to pass Frances’s room which was a few feet from the bathroom.