officer. I went out with the girl and closed the door. At the foot of the stairs I took her by the shoulders and turned her around.
“Can I trust your Vasilije?” I asked.
“Oh my dear, he could handle half a dozen Einarsons.”
“I don’t mean that. He won’t try to gyp me?”
She frowned at me, asking: “Why should you start worrying about that now?”
“He doesn’t seem to be exactly all broken out with friendliness.”
She laughed, and twisted her face around to bite at one of my hands on her shoulders.
“He’s got ideals,” she explained. “He despises you and your king for a pair of adventurers who are making a profit out of his country’s troubles. That’s why he’s so sniffy. But he’ll keep his word.”
Maybe he would, I thought, but he hadn’t given me his word—the girl had.
“I’m going over to see His Majesty,” I said. “I won’t be long—then I’ll join you up in his suite. What was the idea of the sewing act? I had no buttons off.”
“You did,” she contradicted me, rummaging in my pocket for cigarettes. “I pulled one off when one of our men told me you and Einarson were headed this way. I thought it would look domestic.”