“Nothing I could be jailed for,” I said, “but things could be made uncomfortable for me. So I roamed over into Mitteleuropa , learned that I might find a connection in Belgrade, got there to find it a false alarm, and came on down here. I may pick up something here. I’ve got a date with the Minister of Police tomorrow. I think I can show him where he can use me.”
“The gross Djudakovich!” Einarson said with frank contempt. “You find him to your liking?”
“No work, no eat,” I said.
“Einarson,” Grantham began quickly, hesitated, said: “Couldn’t we—don’t you think—” and didn’t finish.
The Colonel frowned at him, saw I had noticed the frown, cleared his throat, and addressed me in a gruffly hearty tone:
“Perhaps it would be well if you did not too speedily engage yourself to this fat minister. It may be—there is a possibility that we know of another field where your talents might find employment more to your taste—and profit.”
I let the matter stand there, saying neither yes nor no.