Frank Harding, the....
Arlene slipped quietly out of the chair, moved across the room behind Harding's back, watching him. When he began to turn, she darted off towards the open hall entry.
She heard him make a startled exclamation, come pounding after her. He caught her at the entry, swung her around, holding her wrists. He stared down at her from under the bristling red brows. "What the devil did you think you were doing?"
"You....!" Arlene gasped frantically. "You—" What checked her was first the surprise, then the dawning understanding in his face. She stammered, almost dizzy with relief, "I ... I thought you must be...."
Harding shook his head, relaxed his grip on her wrists.
"But I'm not, of course," he said quietly.
"No ... you're not! You wouldn't have had to ... chase me if you were, would you?" Her eyes went round in renewed dismay. "But I don't ... he has the diex projector now!"
Harding shook his head again and took her arm. "No, he doesn't! Now just try to relax a bit, Arlene. We did trap him, you know. It cost quite a few more lives at the end, but we did. So let's go over and sit down. I brought some whisky along ... figured you two should be able to use a little after everything you've been through."
Arlene sat on the edge of a chair, watching him pour out a glass. A reaction had set in; she felt very weak and shaky now, and she seemed unable to comprehend entirely that the rogue had been caught.
She said, "So you were in on this operation too?"