"You'd better," continued Quade. "Now tell me what happened to Juan."
Phil forced himself to be calm. "Your pal, the greaser?" he said cuttingly. "He's lying on a bunk in your shack. He shot himself, playing with a gun."
Quade chose not to notice the way Phil said this, but a little of the suave self-confidence was gone from his face as he said: "Well, in that case I'll have to hurry back to the surface to attend to him. But don't be alarmed," he added, more brightly. "I'll be back for you all in an hour or so."
At this, David Guinness struggled frantically with his bonds and yelled:
"Don't believe him, Phil! He's going to leave us here, to starve and die! He told us so just before you came down!"
uade's face twitched perceptibly. His eyes were nervous.
"Is that true, Quade?" Holmes asked. There was a steely note in his voice.
"Why—no, of course not," the other said hastily, uncertain whether to lie or not. "Of course I didn't!"