'In the distance,' I answered. 'That was as we were climbing up to Sankt Paal, before the snow came down.' I took the glass of hot brandy from her and drained it. 'Lovaas and his mate were about five hundred yards behind him.'
'But where is he now?'
'Soon as the snow came down he swung away from the marked route. He's leading them a dance all round the precipices and crevasses of Sankt Paal. He'll get the pair of them lost and they'll die out there in the snow.'
'Die? But — ' She stopped then and her eyes looked troubled. Then she said, 'You've had a long trek, Bill. Vassbygden to Sankt Paal is quite a way. You can't have stopped anywhere.'
'At Osterbo and Steinbergdalen,' I answered. 'But they were only brief halts.'
'Where's Alf Sunde?'
'At Steinbergdalen.' I passed my hand over my face. My eyes felt tired and I was still dizzy despite the warmth of the brandy.
'But why did you leave him at Steinbergdalen?' she asked.
'He was wounded,' I answered. 'Bullet through the shoulder.' Why must she keep on asking me questions? Couldn't she see I didn't want to talk? But there was something I must ask her — something she'd said. Oh, yes — 'What did you mean when you said you couldn't bear waiting whilst they all gathered for the kill?'
Her eyes were wide. 'A bullet through the shoulder? How did he get that? What happened?'