"You forget, Mr. Durand, that Lindsay was his guest last night."
Jerry's laugh was a contemptuous jeer. "That's right. I'd forgot that. He was your guest, wasn't he, Bromfield?"
"What's the good of discussing it here?" asked the tortured host.
"Not a bit," admitted Whitford. "Actions talk, not words. Have you seen the police yet, Bromfield?"
"N-not yet."
"What's he gonna see the police about?" Jerry wanted to know, his chin jutting out.
"To tell them that he saw Collins draw a gun and heard shots fired," retorted the mining man instantly.
"Not what he's been tellin' me. He'll not pull any such story—not unless he wants to put himself in a cell for life."
"Talk sense. You can't frighten Bromfield. He knows that's foolishness."
"Does he?" The crook turned derisive eyes on the victim he was torturing.