I nodded that I understood and rubbed my day old stubble thoughtfully.
"And yes, don't bother shaving. A bit of a beard might be as good a disguise as any if you meet Chetzisky. He may still remember you."
"By the way, Jim, how did you manage to get government support for your idea?"
"I didn't."
"You didn't," I said slowly, "Then how—"
"I'm using my assignment to track down the leakage of our troop movements to the Orient as the apparent reason for my maneuvers. What more likely than such a spy ring should have its headquarters on the Pacific Coast and perhaps a transmitter deep in the mountains." He grinned like a pleased cat.
"You mean none of the Canadian authorities knows you're really after Chetzisky!" The man's gall flabbergasted me.
"That's right."
The bell-hop knocked on the door and entered with our drinks. I gulped mine down and sagged back in a chair, hoping for my brain to clear and find all this was happening only in a nightmare, the result of overindulging in my favorite onion soup.
But it wasn't just a bad dream. "... above all you must creep up on Chetzisky," I heard Armstrong saying.