"He wouldn't have brained me," said Sault quietly.
"I suppose he wouldn't. Even Steppe would have thought twice about lifting his hand to you. He's a brute though, I saw him smash a man in the face once for calling him a liar—at a directors' meeting. It was an hour before the poor devil knew what had happened. Yes, she is pretty. I see her riding some mornings, a young Diana—delicious. I'd give a lot to be in Steppe's shoes."
"Why?"
Moropulos rolled a cigarette with extraordinary rapidity and lit it. "Why? Well, if he wants her, he'll have her. Steppe is that kind. I don't suppose the doctor would have much to say in the matter. Or she, either."
Sault picked up an iron bar from the table. It was one of four that he had brought for the purpose of strengthening the safe, and it was nearly an inch in diameter.
"I think she would have something to say," he said, weighing the bar on the palms of his hands.
And then, to the Greek's amazement, he bent the steel into a V. He used no apparent effort; the bar just changed its shape in his hands as though it had been made of lead.
"Why did you do that?" he gasped.
"I don't know," said Ambrose Sault, and with a jerk brought the steel almost straight.
"Phew!"