"Well," Malone said, equally bored, "we might be able to get a few corroborative details."
Brubitsch swallowed hard. Malone ignored him.
"Now, just look at him," Boyd said. "He certainly doesn't look like the head of a spy ring, does he?"
"Of course he doesn't," Malone said. "That's probably why the Russians used him. They figured nobody would ever look twice at a fat slob like this. Nobody would ever suspect him of being the head man."
"I guess you're right," Boyd said. He yawned, which Malone thought was overacting a trifle. Brubitsch saw the yawn, and one hand came up to jerk at his collar.
"Who'd ever think," Malone said, "that he plotted those killings in Redstone—all three of them?"
"It is surprising," Boyd said.
"But, then," Malone said, "we know he did. There isn't any doubt of that."
Brubitsch seemed to be turning a pale green. It was a fascinating color, unlike any other Malone had ever seen. He watched it with interest.
"Oh, sure," Boyd said. "We've got enough evidence from the other two to send this one to the chair tomorrow, if we want to."