"You have jailed him," di Cassio repeated flatly. "Ah, I see. Jail." The audio pickup brought in the sound of stertorous breathing. "Will you not free him?" di Cassio asked.
"I will not."
"Did he not tell you what would happen if he would not be granted his request?"
"He told me," Walton said. "Well?"
The fat man looked sick. Walton saw that the bluff was going to be unsuccessful; that the conspirators would not dare put Lamarre's drug into open production. It had been a weapon without weight, and Walton had not let himself be cowed by it.
"Well?" Walton repeated inflexibly.
"You trouble me sorely," said di Cassio. "You give my heart pain, Mr. Walton. Steps will have to be taken."
"The Lamarre immortality serum—"
The face on the screen turned a leaden gray. "The serum," di Cassio said, "is not entered into this talking."
"Oh, no? My brother Fred made a few remarks—"