Flint stared at the three as they came toward him, stared at them as they marched past him, stared at their backs as they assailed the baggage room. Well, there went his plans—he had to give up without even a fight. He couldn't kidnap a woman.
Then suddenly his big fists knotted at his sides. Staring at Miss Vaun's back, he realized her coat was feather-deer. Flint stuck a resolute shoulder into the crowd and went after her.
They were waiting at the baggage counter when he came up. Miss Vaun looked over the crowd, tapping her foot. "Now where is the yokel that was to meet us?"
"Miss Vaun?"
She took a step backward as Flint loomed before her.
"Yes?"
"I'm the yokel."
"Oh," she said. Then, without apology, "Excellent. You're Mr. Flint—the Governor radioed us to expect you. We can leave immediately."
"You don't want to rest a bit first, Karen?" one of her little men asked. Flint shouted to himself, "No!" From what he'd seen and heard he was ready to go through the whole thing now, and Greeno was waiting at the radio for the word go.
But Miss Vaun apparently had the energy of a cash register. "These liners are virtually traveling hotels, John," she said. "I'm quite rested and I want to look over this property so I can close the deal in the morning." She turned to Flint. "Shall we go?"