"That don't make no difference. All you want ... ow!"
Gray's fingers had fastened like steel claws on his wrist.
"I get it, now," said Gray slowly. "That's why I was sent here. Somebody wanted me to make trouble for Moulton." His fingers tightened agonizingly, and his voice sank to a slow drawl.
"I don't like being a pawn in somebody else's chess game."
"Okay, okay! It ain't my fault. Lemme go." Ward rubbed his bruised wrist. "Sure, somebody—I ain't sayin' who—sent you here, knowin' you'd want to escape. I'm here to help you. You get free, I get paid, the Big Boy gets what he wants. Okay?"
Gray was silent, scowling in the darkness. Then he said.
"All right. I'll take a chance."
"Then listen. You tell Moulton you have a complaint. I'll...."
Light flooded the dark as the door clanged open. Ward leaped like a startled rabbit, but the light speared him, held him. Ward felt a pulse of excitement beat up in him.
The long ominous shadows of the guards raised elongated guns. The barracks stirred and muttered, like a vast aviary waking.