"You need not be afraid," he said gently. "They will not touch you unless I order them."
Jamison stared down at the little man whose collar he held firmly, with a Mills grenade dangling down at the base of his neck.
"I wouldn't order them to attack, if I were you," he said coldly. "I haven't Bell's brains, but I have just as much dislike for you as he has."
hey came to the harbor. Bell spoke again.
"The carriage is to drive out to the end of one of the docks, and no one else is to go out on that dock."
The Master relayed the order in his mild voice, but as the coachman obeyed him he clucked his tongue commiseratingly.
"Senor Bell," he protested gently. "You do not expect to escape! Not after killing me! Why that is absurd!"
Bell said nothing. He alighted from the carriage, his face set grimly, and stared ashore at the long, long row of terrified faces staring out at him. The whole waterfront seemed to be lined with staring faces. Wails came from that mass of enslaved human beings.