He got up. Felg pushed him and he fell on the mattress and remained there.
"What are you doing in Haatok?"
He was not glib. He had never been glib. He could think of absolutely no answer, no fiction to substitute for the truth. He remained silent. Something rustled as he leaned uncomfortably on his left side. It was the newspaper with the circled article. If Felg found that, Felg would know. So, Felg must not find it. He shifted his weight to that side, trying to cover the telltale edge of paper protruding from his pocket.
"What are you doing?" Felg said.
He rolled over. The paper rustled. He wanted to scream.
Felg took hold of his arm and dragged him to his feet. The other man, Gawroi, merely stood and watched. Felg was going to get the newspaper, Ranmut knew. He broke away and ran toward the door. Felg stuck his foot out and Ranmut fell over it headlong, skidding across the dirty floor to the door, where he lay in a heap. Directly in front of his face was Gawroi's large shoe, the toe under his chin. But Gawroi's shoe did not move.
Felg reached down and got the newspaper. His face became dark with blood when he saw it. He pulled Ranmut to his feet and shook the paper before his face and bellowed, "Where did you get this?"
"In the bus depot, lord."
Felg thrust Ranmut back toward the broken bed and showed the newspaper to Gawroi. "I marked it. It's my paper," he admitted.