"I shall be plain enough," promised Gion, dropping a hand upon the heavy butt of his silver-mounted glare-pistol. Kurland's teeth flashed in the gloom. There was magic still in his flaming name.
"You know the Jewels of Orion?"
"I have heard of them."
"They have vanished."
The outlaw shrugged, half a laugh breaking through his beard. "My regrets, Marward. I had no hand in it."
Gion bared his teeth wolfishly. "I did."
Bland astonishment swept Kurland's face. Then, slowly, a grim smile thrust aside his wonder.
"Forgive my start, Marward. You have stolen so much."
Fiercely Gion brushed aside the cold insult. He stepped back, his face in shadow. The prison cell was electric with his vibrant hate. "You will have it, will you, Kurland? I came to make an offer."
"Go on," said the outlaw, immobile.