"That's the point," he said. "I don't know. Something's all wrong inside."
"How?"
"Napoleon. Andrews. Frankly, I hate his damn guts. I've always hated the guts of that kind of moneybags. He walks all over everybody, buying what he can't control. Darned near theft, if you ask me."
"So?"
"Aw, hell! The little character has got something. I want to know what."
"Now it's him?"
Norton nodded. "Something about Andrews. I don't know. I don't know how or what or why, but there's something about him."
Alice eyed the pilot strangely. "Good or bad?" she asked cautiously.
"Both."
"Jock Norton," she asked quietly, "you've never had to work hard to get what you wanted, have you?"