"Easy to understand," I corrected. "Hard to phrase. But I know you too well to worry about you. As for the wrench, I'm beginning to feel it myself."
Nikka resumed his restless pacing.
"I don't mind anything so much as that oily Armenian downstairs," he insisted. "He—he is dishonest. And we make him dishonest. Not that I've used him so, Jack. Most of what I earn goes to my people, who need it, poor souls, especially since the War laid its blight on all south-eastern Europe. Kostabidjian is one of the agents I employ to distribute my funds. I use him because of his connection with my uncle's tribe."
"Most of us have to use dishonest helpers occasionally," I said. "I'd hate to have to guarantee every business associate of mine. But can we trust this man, Nikka? If he's all you indicate him, isn't he likely to sell us out?"
"He'd sell us out in a minute, if he dared," rejoined Nikka, with a tight-lipped smile. "But he knows that if he did he would get a knife in him. It would be only a question of time."
"Nice company you've dragged me into," I grumbled. "Well, let's catch up on our sleep."
His outburst had eased Nikka's nervous tension, and he soon dozed off. For a while I watched the afternoon sunlight outside the windows, then the weariness of our travels overcame me, and I, too, slept.... I woke abruptly, feeling a light blazing in my eyes. My first thought was of Toutou and Hélène de Cespedes, and I dived under the pillow for my automatic and sat up at the same time.
A man was standing in the doorway of the room, with a kerosene lamp in his hand, a tall man, with the proud face of an eagle. Wisps of silver-white hair escaped from the varicolored turban that wrapped his brows, but he held himself with the erect poise of youth. He was dressed in tight breeches of brown cloth, and a blue shirt and short red jacket. Flat sandals of bull's-hide, sewed to a point at the toes, were laced over his bare feet by straps that wound across his insteps and above his ankles. Around his waist was twisted a heavy sash, bristling with knives and pistols.
As I prodded Nikka awake, he closed the door behind him and set the lamp on a table, calmly ignoring my pistol. Nikka, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, took one look at the apparition and jumped from the bed.
"Wasso!" he cried.