VI + 

Cards on the Table + 

We returned to the city in the officer’s car. He and Grantham sat in the rear. I sat beside the soldier who drove. The boy and I got out at our hotel. Einarson said good night and was driven away as if he were in a hurry. + 

“It’s early,” Grantham said as we went indoors. “Come up to my room.” + 

I stopped at my own room to wash off the mud I’d gathered around the lumber stack and to change my clothes, and then went up with him. He had three rooms on the top floor, overlooking the plaza. + 

He set out a bottle of whisky, a syphon, lemons, cigars and cigarettes, and we drank, smoked, and talked. Fifteen or twenty minutes of the talk came from no deeper than the mouth on either side⁠—comments on the night’s excitement, our opinions of Stefania, and so on. Each of us had something to say to the other. Each was weighing the other in before he said it. + 

I decided to put mine over first. + 

“Colonel Einarson was spoofing us tonight,” I said. + 

“Spoofing?” The boy sat up straight, blinking. + 

“His soldier shot for money, not revenge.” + 

“You mean⁠—?” His mouth stayed open. + 

“I mean the little dark man you ate with gave the soldier money.” + 

“Mahmoud! Why, that’s⁠—You are sure?” + 

“I saw it.” + 

He looked at his feet, yanking his gaze away from mine as if he didn’t want me to see that he thought I was lying. + 

“The soldier may have lied to Einarson,” he said presently, still trying to keep me from knowing he thought me the liar. “I can understand some of the language, as spoken by the educated Muravians, but not the country dialect the soldier talked, so I don’t know what he said, but he may have lied, you know.” + 

“Not a chance,” I said. “I’d bet my pants he told the truth.” + 

He continued to stare at his outstretched feet, fighting to hold his face cool and calm. Part of what he was thinking slipped out in words: + 

“Of course, I owe you a tremendous debt for saving us from⁠—” + 

“You don’t. You owe that to the soldier’s bad aim. I didn’t jump him till his gun was empty.” + 

“But⁠—” His young eyes were wide before mine, and if I had pulled a machine gun out of my cuff he wouldn’t have been surprised. He suspected me of everything on the blotter. I cursed myself for overplaying my hand. There was nothing to do now but spread the cards. + 

“Listen, Grantham. Most of what I told you and Einarson about myself is the bunk. Your uncle, Senator Walbourn, sent me down here. You were supposed to be in Paris. A lot of your dough was being shipped to Belgrade. The Senator was leery of the racket, didn’t know whether you were playing a game or somebody was putting over a fast one. I went to Belgrade, traced you here, and came here, to run into what I ran into. I’ve traced the money to you, have talked to you. That’s all I was hired to do. My job’s done⁠—unless there’s anything I can do for you now.” + 

“Not a thing,” he said very calmly. “Thanks, just the same.” He stood up, yawning. “Perhaps I’ll see you again before you leave for the United States.” + 

“Yeah.” It was easy for me to make my voice match his in indifference: I hadn’t a cargo of rage to hide. “Good night.” + 

I went down to my room, got into bed, and, not having anything to think about, went to sleep. + 