“He sent the message, Sir, that he was doing well!”
“To me?”
“Who else, Sir?”
Redwood stood for nearly a minute with his arms tightly folded, taking this in. Then his indignation found a voice.
“Because you were fools in doing the thing, because you miscalculated and blundered, you would like me to think you are not murderers in intention. And besides—The rest?”
The young man looked interrogation.
“The other Giants?”
The young man made no further pretence of misunderstanding. His tone fell. “Thirteen, Sir, are dead.”
“And others wounded?”
“Yes, Sir.”