She went around me to avoid passing between my gun and its target, stood on tiptoe to kiss my ear, and said:
“You and your king are a couple of brigands. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She went out.
“Ten millions,” Colonel Einarson said.
“I can’t trust you now,” I said. “You’d pay us off in front of a firing squad.”
“You can trust this pig Djudakovich?”
“He’s got no reason to hate us.”
“He will when he’s told of you and his Romaine.”
I laughed.
“Besides, how can he be king? Ach! What is his promise to pay if he cannot become in a position to pay? Suppose even I am dead. What will he do with my army? Ach! You have seen the pig! What kind of king is he?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I’m told he was a good Minister of Police because inefficiency would spoil his comfort. Maybe he’d be a good dictator or king for the same reason. I’ve seen him once. He’s a bloated mountain, but there’s nothing ridiculous about him. He weighs a ton, and moves without shaking the floor. I’d be afraid to try on him what I did to you.”
This insult brought the soldier up on his feet, very tall and straight. His eyes burned at me while his mouth hardened in a thin line. He was going