"How the deuce can I help it? No chance to keep them apart in that little hole. It can't be done."
"Can't it?"
Something in the quiet voice rang a bell of alarm in the timid heart of Selfridge.
"You mean—"
"A man who works for me as my lieutenant must have nerve, Wally. Have you got it? Will you take orders and go through with them?"
His hard eyes searched the face of the plump little man. This was a job he would have liked to do himself, but he could not get away just now. Selfridge was the only man about him he could trust with it.
Wally nodded. His lips were dry and parched. "Go to it. What am I to do?"
"Get Holt out of the way while Elliot is at Kamatlah."
"But, Good Lord, I can't keep the man tied up a month," protested the leading tenor of Kusiak.