It had been a girl in the bed, blinking up sleepily, mouth a taut line of surprise. The girl—the one from the skid, the one he'd encountered in Annihilation Range! She had no more of a look at him than he at her, and she had been sleep-dazed, staring up at the light. Perhaps she hadn't recognized him—
"Hold still," he hissed—there is no personality to a whisper. "Where's Alan Woller?"
"Who are you?" the girl's voice came, a trifle unsteady. Good—she hadn't recognized him!
Nolan laughed voicelessly. "I'm the man with the gun," he replied. "I ask the questions. Where's Woller?"
"None of your business," the girl said. There was a note of confidence in her voice, and suddenly Nolan felt a furtive movement from the bed. Was there an alarm—a bell to summon servants?
"Hold it!" he whispered sharply. "One wrong move and I'll kill you. I mean business—and I want an answer."
The girl's voice was even now. "I won't give one."
Nolan's brows drew down over his eyes. What was this girl to Woller? Whatever the connection was, by rights he should take no chances. The girl was a danger to him—and the life of no woman on Woller's string should be permitted to stand between him and the chance for vengeance on the man who had framed him.
"I'll give you ten seconds," he whispered harshly.
But already he was stepping silently backward, concealed in the abyss-black gloom of the chamber. He reached noiselessly behind him for the knob of the door. He was being a fool and he knew it. But he had seen honesty in her eyes, back on the skid, and even the yearning for revenge couldn't make him blot that out with pyro-flame.