to make trouble for me before I was rid of him. I scowled at him and wondered what I should do next.
The door opened and Vasilije Djudakovich came in, followed by the girl. I grinned at the fat Minister. He nodded without smiling. His little dark eyes moved coldly from me to Einarson.
The girl said:
“The government will give Lionel the First a draft for four million dollars, American, on either a Vienna or Athens bank, in exchange for his abdication.” She dropped her official tone and added: “That’s every nickel I could get out of him.”
“You and your Vasilije are a couple of rotten bargain hunters,” I complained. “But we’ll take it. We’ve got to have a special train to Saloniki—one that will put us across the border before the abdication goes into effect.”
“That will be arranged,” she promised.
“Good! Now to do all this your Vasilije has got to take the army away from Einarson. Can he do it?”
“Ach!” Colonel Einarson reared up his head, swelled his thick chest. “That is precisely what he has got to do!”
The fat man grumbled sleepily through his yellow beard. Romaine came over and put a hand on my arm.
“Vasilije wants a private talk with Einarson. Leave it to him. We’ll go upstairs.”
I agreed and offered Djudakovich my automatic. He paid no attention to the gun or to me. He was looking with a clammy sort of patience at the