Behind him the tall, thin figure of his sister showed. She was
plucking at him. He turned violently. "I won't harm him! Gregg
Haljan--is this a truce? You will not shoot?" He was shielding Moa.
"No," I called. "For a moment, no. A truce. What is it you want to
say?"
I could hear the babble of passengers who were herded in the cabin
with brigands guarding them. George Prince, bare-headed, but shrouded
in his cloak, showed in a patch of light behind Moa. He looked my way
and then retreated.