“What’s been decided?”
“I don’t know. We had a chat last night after you’d gone but-anyway, you talk to him about it. There we are! All tucked up now. I’ll take it quiet.”
They set off up the twisting, rock-strewn road to the ruined house and went through the same routine as before when they reached it. This time, however, as they stood waiting among the pine trees while Arthur warned the sentry of their approach, George and Miss Kolin had nothing to say to one another. Arthur returned and led them to the house.
The Sergeant greeted them in the hall, shaking hands with George and clicking heels to Miss Kolin. He smiled, but seemed secretly ill at ease as though doubtful of their goodwill. Miss Kolin, George was relieved to note, was her usual impassive self.
The Sergeant led them into the dining-room, poured out drinks, and eyed George’s briefcase.
“You have brought the papers?”
“Sure.” George opened the case.
“Ah!”
“And a photo of the Dragoon,” George added.
“This is true?”