“But …”
“There are not ‘buts.’ I am making the arrangements.” He did not bother to turn his head this time.
“What about Kuvetli?”
“He left by the pilot boat early this morning.”
“Then what’s happened to him?”
“He is probably writing a report to Colonel Haki. I advise you to forget about him.”
Graham was silent. He had asked about Mr. Kuvetli with the sole object of concealing the fact that he was badly frightened. He had been in the car less than two minutes, and already the odds against him had lengthened considerably.
The car bumped over the cobbles to the dock gates, and Graham braced himself for the sharp right turn that would take them towards the town and the Santa Margherita road. The next moment he lurched sideways in his seat as the car swerved to the left. Banat whipped out his gun.
Graham slowly regained his position. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought we turned right for Santa Margherita.”
There was no reply. He sat back in his corner trying to keep his face expressionless. He had assumed quite unwarrantably that it would be through Genoa itself, and on to the Santa Margherita road that he would be taken for his “ride.” All his hopes had been based on the assumption. He had taken too much for granted.