“What of it? Even if they know ⁠—it will not be you they will follow from here.”

A thin, cruel smile came to his lips.

“No,” he admitted, “that is true.”

He mused for a minute or two, and then observed:

“This damned American⁠—he can look after himself as well as anybody.”

“I suppose so.”

He went again to the window.

“Tough customers,” he muttered, with a chuckle. “Known to the police, I fear. Well, well, I wish Brother Apache good hunting.”

Olga Demiroff shook her head.