Again the hesitation. Again the revolver fondling the man’s ribs.
“Yep.”
“All right,” said Rand, cooly deliberate. “You can go out and tell them to start. Tell them La Qua is ready.”
The prisoner stared.
“Go out. Yuh mean that?”
“Yes, but not alone. I’ll go with you. I’ll be standing right behind you when you give them those orders. But before we go, you might as well understand that there’s to be no trickery. No treachery. It might prove fatal.”
Rand opened the door, making a gesture with one arm.
“Out of here—and watch your step! I’ll have my gun on you every minute!”
The door closed softly. The sound of retreating footsteps, a pregnant silence—a period of waiting which seemed interminable. Then the door opened again and Rand and the prisoner appeared. In the eyes of the policeman there sparkled a triumphant light. He turned to Dick with a smile.
“They’ve gone. Never suspected anything. Told them that La Qua and our friend here would follow at their leisure. Bring me the rest of that rope, Toma.”