I could hear the sound of a scuffle. A blow––a cry, half suppressed, from George Prince.
Then Miko: “I will not hurt him. Craven coward! Look at him! Hating me––frightened!”
I could fancy George Prince sitting there with murder in his heart, and Miko taunting him:
“Hates me now, because I shot his sister!”
Moa: “Hush!”
“I will not! Why should I not say it? I will tell you something else, George Prince. It was not Anita I shot at, but you! I meant nothing for her, but love. If you had not interfered––”
This was different from what we had figured. George Prince had come in from his own room, had tried to rescue his sister, and in the scuffle, Anita had taken the shot intended for George.
“I did not even know I had hit her,” Miko was saying. “Not until I heard she was dead.” He added sardonically, “I hoped it was you I had hit, George. And I will tell you this: You hate me no more than I hate you. If it were not for your knowledge of radium ores––”
“Is this to be a personal wrangle?” Rankin interrupted. “I thought we were here to plan––”
“It is planned,” Miko said shortly. “I give orders, I do not plan. I am waiting now for the moment––”