"That's not true! Robbie would never have—"I glanced at her sharply. "Keep him covered, dammit! Robbie? The guy you said was dead?"Greta Elfenbein laughed sharply. "Of course he's dead. When they learned he'd betrayed them, they murdered him —or isn't it murder when one government agent kills another? Of course they made it look like an automobile accident." She went on quickly before Diana could protest: "Please, Mr. Helm, now will you pull out that dreadful knife? Please?""And have you clam up just when you're speaking your piece so nicely?""I'll tell you everything I know if you only ... if you'll just take him down. I promise!"Diana was fuming, obviously on the verge of bursting with counter-accusations; as if I gave a damn, at the moment, who'd killed a guy who'd been dead before I arrived in Norway. I gave her a sharp little sign to remind her that her business was Norman Yale, and reached around and got one of the ship's towels from the rack by the little sink in the comer.
