There was a sort of explosive gasp from von Brünig and Savaroff, and I saw McMurtrie's eyes narrow into two dangerous cat-like slits.
"You don't-wish!" he repeated icily. "May I ask why?"
"Certainly," I said. "With the sole command of an explosive as powerful as mine, Germany would be in a position to smash England in about six weeks."
"And suppose she was," interrupted von Brünig. "What in God's name does it matter to you—an escaped convict?"
His voice rang with impatience and contempt, and I felt my own temper rising.
"It matters just sufficiently," I said, "that I'll see you in hell first."
McMurtrie came slowly up to me, and looked me straight in the eyes.
His face was white and terrible—a livid mask of controlled anger.
"You fool," he said almost pityingly. "You incredible fool! Do you imagine that you have any choice in the matter?"
Von Brünig and Savaroff moved up alongside of him, and I stood there confronting the three of them.
"You have heard my choice," I said.