Mr. Kuvetli had been listening gloomily. “If,” he now said, “you will please tell me what Moeller had to say we shall both get to sleep much sooner.”
Graham smiled. “You know, Kuvetli, I have had several surprises on this ship. You are the first pleasant one.” And then the smile faded. “Moeller came to tell me that unless I agree to delay my return to England for six weeks I shall be murdered within five minutes of my landing in Genoa. He says that apart from Banat, he has other men waiting in Genoa to do the killing.”
Mr. Kuvetli did not seem surprised. “And where does he suggest that you should spend the six weeks?”
“In a villa near Santa Margherita. The idea is that I should be certified by a doctor as suffering from typhus and that I should stay in this villa as if it were a clinic. Moeller and Banat would be the medical staff if anyone should come out from England to see me. He proposes, you see, to involve me in the deception so that I cannot tell tales afterwards.”
Mr. Kuvetli raised his eyebrows. “And how was I concerned?”
Graham told him.
“And, believing Monsieur Moeller, you decided to ignore his advice and tell me about his suggestion?” Mr. Kuvetli beamed approvingly. “That was very courageous of you, Monsieur.”
Graham reddened. “Do you think that I might have agreed?”
Mr. Kuvetli misunderstood. “I think nothing,” he said hastily. “But”-he hesitated-“when a person’s life is in danger he is not always quite normal. He may do things which he would not do in the ordinary way. He cannot be blamed.”
Graham smiled. “I will be frank with you. I came to you now instead of in the morning so that there could be no chance of my thinking things over and deciding to take his advice after all.”