"Go on," Phipps muttered.
"You are quite right in all that you have been saying, up to a certain point. Tell the truth and I am done for, but you pay the price, both of you. Under those circumstances, will it be worth your while to tell the truth?"
"What do you mean?" Rees demanded.
Phipps made a movement to rise.
"I am faint," he cried. "Give me some wine."
Wingate filled two tumblers with champagne and gave one to each. The effect upon Phipps was remarkable. The colour came back into his cheeks, his tone gathered strength.
"What do you mean?" he echoed, "Worth our while?—Why the devil don't they bring the man in? You'll see!"
"Inspector Shields will no doubt insist upon coming in," Wingate replied. "I gather from his visit that he is on the right track at last. But listen. If I am going to be arrested on a charge of abduction and manslaughter, as seems exceedingly probable, I am not going to leave my job half done. An English jury may call it murder if I shoot you two as you sit. I'll risk that. If I am going to get into trouble for one of you, I'll make sure of the lot."
His voice carried conviction. The two men stared at him. Rees, who had been gnawing at a crust of bread, swallowed thickly, drained his glass and staggered to his feet.
"You wouldn't dare!" he scoffed.