"I have a horn in my pocket,

trigger guard. "Sorry," I apologised. "Rude to stare, I know. However, now it's your turn." I nodded in Jackstraw's direction. "Every expedition carries a gun or twofor coast use against prowling bears and wolves and to get seal meat for the dogs. I never thought that it would come in so handy right in the middle of the ice-capand against far more dangerous game than we ever find on the coast. Mr Nielsen is a remarkably accurate shot. Don't try anything -just clasp your hands above your heads. All of you." As if controlled by a master switch, all the eyes had now swivelled back to me. I'd had time to spare to pull out the automatica 9 mm butt-loading Berettathat I'd taken off Colonel Harrison: and this time I didn't forget to slide off the safety-catch. The click was abnormally loud in the frozen silence of the room. But the silence didn't last long. "What damnable outrage is this?" Senator Brewster shouted out the words, his face purpling in rage. He leapt to his feet, started to move forwards towards me then stopped as if he had run into a brick wall. The crash of Jackstraw's Winchester was a deafening, eardrum shattering thunderclap of sound in that confined space: and when the last reverberations of the rifle-shot had faded and the smoke cleared away, Senator Brewster was staring down whitely at the splintered hole in the floor boards, almost literally beneath his feet: Jackstraw must have miscalculated the Senator's rate of movement, for the bullet had sliced through the edge of the sole of Brewster's boot. However it was, the effect couldn't have been bettered: the Senator reached back blindly for the support of the bunk behind him and lowered himself shakily to his seat, so terrified that he even forgot to clasp his hands above his head. But I didn't care about that: there would be no more trouble from the Senator. "OK, so you mean business. Now we're convinced." It was Zagero who drawled out the words, but his hands were tightly enough clasped above his head. "We know you wouldn't do this for nothin', Doc. What gives?" "This gives," I said tightly. "Two of you people are murderers -or a murderer and murderess. Both have guns. I want those guns." "Succinctly put, dear boy," Marie LeGarde said slowly. "Very concise. Have you gone crazy?" "Unclasp your hands, Miss LeGarde, you're not included in this little lot. No, I'm not crazy. I'm as sane as you are, and if you want evidence of my sanity you'll find it out on the plane there -or buried out on the ice-cap: the captain of the plane with a bullet through kodak digital camera chocolate his spine, the passenger in the rear with a bullet through his heart and the second officer smothered to death. Yes, smothered. Not cerebral haemorrhage, as I said: he was murdered in his sleep. Believe me, Miss LeGarde? Or would it take a personal tour of the plane to convince you?" She didn't speak at once. Nobody spoke. Everyone was too stunned, too busy fighting incredulity and trying to assimilate the meaning of the shocking news I'd given themeveryone, that is, except two. But though I scanned eight faces with an intensity with which I had never before examined people I saw nothing -not the slightest off-beat gesture, the tiniest guilty reaction. As for what I'd secretly hoped fora guilty interchange of glances -well, the idea now seemed hopelessly, laughably improbable. Whoever the killers were, they were in perfect control of themselves. I felt despair touch me, a sure knowledge of defeat. "I must believe you." Marie LeGarde spoke as slowly as before, but her voice was unsteady and her face drained of colour. She looked at Margaret Ross. "You knew of this, my dear?" "Half an hour ago, Miss LeGarde. Dr Mason thought I had done it." "Good God! Howhow utterly ghastly! How horrible! Two of us murderers." From her position by the stove, Marie LeGarde glanced round the eight seated people, then looked quickly away. "Supposesuppose you tell us everything, Dr Mason." I told them everything. On the way back from the plane with Miss Ross I had debated this with myselfthe question of secrecy or not. The no secrecy decision had won hands down: keeping quiet wouldn't fool the killersthey knew I knew: no secrecy would mean each and every one of the passengers inn watching the others like hawks, making my task of constant vigilance all that much easier, the killers' chance of making mischief all that more difficult. "You will stand up one at a time," I said when I'd finished. "Mr London will search you for your guns. And please don't forget -1 know I'm dealing with desperate men. I'm prepared to act accordingly. When your turn comes stand very still indeed and make no suspicious move, not the slightest. I'm not very good with a pistol, and I shall have to aim at the middle of your bodies to make certain." "I believe you would at that," Corazzini said thoughtfully. "It doesn't matter what you believe," I said coldly. "Just don't be the one