But Jill walked towards him. 'I tell you, he will not talk. George has no interest in anything but these metals. He has sacrificed everything to that end — everything, I tell you. I know,' she added softly. 'The threat of imprisonment will not make him talk unless he wants to. He has never thought — '
The door burst open behind me and she stopped speaking. Her mouth fell open and then in a whisper she breathed, 'George!'
'Get back against the table, all of you.' The voice was hard, desperate.
I turned. Standing in the doorway, a Luger in his hand, was George Farnell. If Jill had not spoken his name, I don't think I should have known him. His face was white and covered with several days' growth of beard. Snow was plastered over him. His voice was cold and metallic. 'Go on. Get back. All of you. You too, Jill.' That was all to her. He'd recognised her. But that was all his greeting.
'Farnell!' I said. 'Thank God you're here. Don't go down to the Oslo train. The police will be on it.'
'I know. I heard, I've been listening outside the door ever since Jorgensen arrived. Go on, get back — you too, Gansert. I'm trusting nobody.'
I backed away until I felt the hard edge of the table against my body.
'Jill. Go behind that table and get their pistols from them. Throw them over here to me here.'
But she didn't move. 'George. You've got to listen to me. Mr Gansert has his yacht in Aurland. We can get you away to England. You can't stay here. They're going to arrest you for the murder of a man called Schreuder.' Her voice choked. 'I saw his body at Fjaerland. You didn't kill him — did you?'
'Do as I say,' he answered without a trace of emotion. 'Get their guns off them.'