"You mean Scruton? What on earth made you think of him?"
"Talking of those who suffered for being the dead man's friends, I guess," said Toye. "Was it fourteen years?"
"That was it."
"But I guess fourteen doesn't mean fourteen, ordinarily, if a prisoner behaves himself?"
"No, I believe not. In fact, it doesn't."
"Do you know how much it would mean?"
"A little more than ten."
"Then Scruton may be out now?"
"Just."
Toye nodded with detestable aplomb. "That gives you something to chew on," said he. "Of course, I don't say he's our man—"