At the sight of him, Graham’s heart sank. It was to this grubby little man with a stupid smile that he was proposing to commit his safety. But it was too late to turn back now. He said: “I wonder if I could have a talk with you, Mr. Kuvetli.”
Mr. Kuvetli blinked a little shiftily. “Talk? Oh, yes. Come in, please.”
Graham stepped into the cabin. It was as small as his own and very stuffy.
Mr. Kuvetli smoothed out the blankets on his bunk. “Please take seat.”
Graham sat down and opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Kuvetli forestalled him.
“Cigarette, please, Mr. Graham?”
“Thank you.” He took a cigarette. “I had a visit from Herr Professor Haller earlier this evening,” he added; and then, remembering that the bulkheads were thin, glanced at them.
Mr. Kuvetli struck a match and held it out. “Herr Professor Haller is very interesting man, eh?” He lit Graham’s cigarette and his own and blew the match out. “Cabins on both sides empty,” he remarked.
“Then …”
“Please,” interrupted Mr. Kuvetli, “will you allow me to speak French? My English is not very good, eh? Your French is very good. We understand better each.”