Lionel Grantham, ex-king of Muravia, was only five minutes behind us in reaching our train. He wasn’t alone. Valeska Radnjak, looking as much like the queen of something as if she had been, was with him. She didn’t seem to be all broken up over the loss of her throne.
The boy was pleasant and polite enough to me during our rattling trip to Saloniki, but obviously not very comfortable in my company. His bride-to-be didn’t know anybody but the boy existed, unless she happened to find someone else directly in front of her. So I didn’t wait for their wedding, but left Saloniki on a boat that pulled out a couple of hours after we arrived.
I left the draft with them, of course. They decided to take out Lionel’s three millions and return the fourth to Muravia. And I went back to San Francisco to quarrel with my boss over what he thought were unnecessary five- and ten-dollar items in my expense account.