"Do I talk like Colonel James?"
"You've changed completely, sir. If I didn't know, I would swear you were the notorious Gospodin Pashkov."
"I am Gospodin Pashkov now, Captain. To everybody."
"Of course, sir. I'll ring down you are coming."
Pashkov glanced at his watch. Colonel James would be landing in Moscow about now and taken to Comrade Petchareff for questioning.
A manservant in velvet cutaways, patent leather shoes and white gloves, escorted Pashkov through rooms hung with chandeliers, tapestries, paintings. Pashkov entered the last room and stopped as the door clicked shut behind him.
In the room were three men, all of whom he recognized: Professor Kristin of the Swedish Academy, a white-haired old man with a kind, intelligent face; the king, Gustavus IX, a thin old man stroking his Vandyke, sitting under a portrait of Frederick the Great; and Monsieur Fanti, the make-up surgeon.
Pashkov bowed his head. "Your majesty. Gentlemen."
"Extraordinary!" Professor Kristin said.