“Your point of view, Mr. Carey, is that of an American lawyer. The points of view of the Vassiotis and her friends are different.”
“I see. You think that this Arthur proposition is just another shakedown then?”
“I do. You gave that Captain a hundred dollars and the Vassiotis fifty. Now Mr. Arthur and his friends would like some dollars, too.”
“He emphasized that there was no question of money involved. I told you.”
“You believed him?”
“All right, then, I’m the prize sucker. But, for some reason, I did believe him. For some reason, equally idiotic no doubt, I still do.”
She had shrugged again. “Then you are right to keep the appointment. It will be interesting to see what happens.”
That had been over breakfast. By lunch-time his confidence in his first estimate of Arthur’s intensions had completely evaporated. Sitting in the café with the yellow blinds, glumly sipping coffee, he had only one consoling thought in his head: no matter what happened, no matter what they did, neither Arthur nor any of Arthur’s friends was going to get one red cent for his trouble.
It was after five o’clock now. The café was three parts empty. Nobody who looked as if he might conceivably have a message to deliver had been near them.
George finished his coffee. “All right, Miss Kolin,” he said, “let’s pay and go.”