I shook my head. "Not if there is a more pleasant alternative."
Savaroff grunted. "No alternative is likely to be more unpleasant for you," he said harshly.
The touch of bullying in his tone put my back up at once. "Indeed!" I said: "I can imagine several."
McMurtrie's smooth voice intervened. "But ours, Mr. Lyndon, is one which I think will make a very special appeal to you. How would you like to keep your freedom and at the same time take up your scientific work again?"
I looked at him closely. For once there was no trace of mockery in his eyes.
"I should like it very much indeed, if it was possible," I answered.
McMurtrie leaned forward a little. "It is possible," he said quietly.
There was a short pause. Savaroff pulled out a cigar, bit off the end, and spat it into the fireplace. Then he reached sideways to the chest of drawers for a match.
"Explain to him," he said, jerking his head towards me.
McMurtrie glanced at him—it seemed to me a shade impatiently. Then he turned back to me.