"The Ambassador," Barrows smiled. "He's been tearing his nice white hair since you got back from Havana. You put him on an awful spot, you know."
"It'll do him good, the old bastard. Do you know what Tabio told me about him a few days before he died? He said that he was with Skidmore at a dinner a few days after Germany invaded Russia and that Skidmore said he was glad that now the Russians would get what was coming to them."
"Not really?"
"Lavandero was there. He'll back me up." Hall stopped. "Say, I have an idea," he said. "There's one thing I can do for G-2. I can write a report on Skidmore. I'll do it right after the elections."
"Oh-oh! It'll mean trouble with the Spats Department."
"Spats?"
"State. But you make your report, and give it to me. I'll turn it in with the rest of my stuff when I get back. Why not? You're a civilian. The worst that can happen to you after you write the report is that you'll have trouble getting passports and visas."
"I don't give a damn," Hall said. "And I'll do something else. You gave me an idea. I'm still a civilian, you said. Swell, then I won't be climbing over anyone's brass hat if I see to it that a copy of the report reaches the White House."
Barrows leaned back in his chair, laughing. "He told me that you threatened to do just that," he said. "But he's just a harmless old duffer, Hall. He told me he wanted to shake your hand."
"He can shove it. Did you meet his daughter?"