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hey've been stolen。〃
〃Maybe they'll turn up？〃 I didn't believe it myself。
〃Two of the valves already have。 Crushed little bits of glass lying in the bottom of the snow tunnel。〃
〃Our little friends think of everything。1'！ swore softly。 〃That settles it； Jackstraw。 We can't wait any longer； we'll leave as soon as possible。 But first a night's sleep…that we must have。〃
〃Uplavnik？〃 That was our expedition base； near the mouth of the Stromsund glacier。 〃Do you think we will ever get there？〃
He wasn't thinking； just as I wasn't； about the rigours and dangers of arctic winter travel； daunting enough though these were when they had to be faced with a superannuated tractor like the Citroen； but of the pany we would be keeping en route。 If any fact was ever so glaringly obvious that it didn't need mention； it was that the killers； whoever they were； could only escape justice； or； at least； the mass arrest and interrogation of all the passengers； by ensuring that they were the only ones to emerge alive from the ice…cap。
〃I wouldn't like to bet on it；〃 I said dryly。 〃But I'd bet even less on our chances if we stay here。 Death by starvation is kind of final。〃
〃Yes； indeed。〃 He paused for a moment； then switched to a fresh line of thought。 〃You say they tried to kill you tonight。 Is that not surprising？ I would have thought that you and I would have been very safe； for a few days at least。〃
I knew what he meant。 Apart from Jackstraw and myself； there probably wasn't a handful of people in all Greenland who could start that damned Citroen； far less drive it； only Jackstraw could handle the dogs； and it was long odds indeed against any of the passengers knowing anything at all about astral or magnetic pass navigation…the latter very tricky indeed in these high latitudes。 These special skills should have been guarantee enough of our immediate survival。
〃True enough；〃 I agreed。 〃But I suspect they haven't given any thought to these things simply because they haven't realised the importance of them。 We'll make it our business to point out that importance very plainly。 Then we're both insured。 Meantime； we'll have one last effort to clear this business up before we get started。 It's not going to make us very popular； but we can't help that。〃 I explained what I had in mind； and he nodded thoughtful agreement。
After he had gone below； I waited a couple of minutes and then followed him。 All nine of the passengers were sitting in the cabin now…eight； rather； watching Marie LeGarde presiding over a soup pan…and I took a long； long look at all of them。 It was the first time I had ever examined a group of my fellow…men with the object of trying to decide which among them were murderers； and found it a strange and unsettling experience。
In the first place； every one of them looked to me like a potential or actual murderer…or murderess…but even with that thought came the realisation that this was purely because I associated murder with abnormality； and in these wildly unlikely surroundings； clad in the layered bulkiness of these wildly unlikely clothes； every one of them seemed far removed from normality。 But on a second and closer look； when one ignored the irrelevancies of surroundings and clothes； there remained only a group of shivering； feet…stamping； miserable and very ordinary people indeed。
Or were they so ordinary？ Zagero； for instance； was he ordinary？ He had the build； the strength and； no doubt； also the speed and temperament for a top…ranking heavyweight； but he was the most unlikely looking boxer I had ever seen。 It wasn't just that he was obviously a well…educated and cultured man…there had been such boxers before： it was chiefly because his face was absolutely unmarked； without even that almost invariable thickening of skin above the eyes。 Moreover； I had never heard of him； although that； admittedly； didn't go for much： as a doctor； I took a poor view of homo sapiens wreaking gratuitous physical and mental injury on homo sapiens； and took little interest in the sport。
Or take his manager； Solly Levin； or； for that matter； the Rev。 Joseph Small wood。 Solly wasn't a New York boxing manager； he was a caricature of all I had ever heard or read about these Runyonesque characters； and he was just too good to be true： so； also； was the Rev。 Small wood； who was so exactly the meek； mild； slightly nervous； slightly anaemic man of God that preachers are so frequently represented to be…and almost invariably never are …that his movements； reactions； ments and opinions were predictable to the nth degree。 But； against that； I had to set the fact that the killers were clever calculating men who would have carefully avoided assuming the guise of any character so patently cut from cardboard： on the other hand； they might have been astute enough to do just that。
There was a question mark； too； about Corazzini。 America specialised in producing shrewd； intelligent； tough business leaders and executives； and Corazzini was undoubtedly one such。 But the toughness of the average business man was purely mental： Corazzini had physical toughness as well； a ruthlessness I felt he wouldn't hesitate to apply to matters lying far outside the immediate sphere of business。 And then I realised； wryly； that I was prepared to suspect Corazzini for reasons diametrically opposed to those for which I was prepared to suspect Levin and the Rev。 Smallwood： Corazzini didn't fit into any pattern； any prefabricated mental image of the American business man。
Of the two remaining men； Theodore Mahler； the little Jew； and Senator Brewster； I would have taken the former any time as the more likely suspect。 But when I asked myself why； I could adduce no more damaging reasons than that he was thin； dark； rather embittered looking and had told us absolutely nothing about himself： and if that weren't prejudice on my part； I couldn't guess what was。 As for Senator Brewster； he was surely above suspicion： and then the startling thought struck me that if one wished to be above suspicion surely there were no better means of achieving that than by assuming the identity of someone who was above suspicion。 How did I know he was Senator Brewster？ A couple of forged papers； a white moustache and white hair on top of a naturally florid plexion and anyone could have been Senator Brewster。 True； it would be an impersonation impossible to sustain indefinitely： but the whole point was that any such impersonation didn't have to be sustained indefinitely。
I was getting nowhere and I knew it： I was more confused； more uncertain； and infinitely more suspicious than ever。 I was even suspicious of the women。 The young German girl； Helene …Munich was her home town； near enough Central Europe and the skulduggery that went on in the neighbourhood of the iron curtain for anything to be possible： but on the other hand the idea of a seventeen…year…old master criminal…we certainly weren't dealing with apprentices…was ridiculously far…fetched； and the fact that she had fractured her collar…bone； almost sure proof that the crash had been unexpected； was a strong point in her favour。 Mrs Dansby…Gregg？ She belonged