"If we are killed," said the latter, "our whole plan is wrecked. There will be no one left to carry on."
Romero shrugged. "It was only a suggestion," he said, "but, of course, if you are afraid—"
"I am not afraid," stormed Zveri, "but neither am I a fool."
An ill-concealed sneer curved Romero's lips. "I am going to eat," he said, and, rising, he left them.
The day following his advent into the camp of his fellow conspirators, Wayne Colt wrote a long message in cipher and dispatched it to the Coast by one of his boys. From her tent Zora Drinov had seen the message given to the boy. She had seen him place it in the end of a forked stick and start off upon his long journey. Shortly after, Colt joined her in the shade of a great tree beside her tent.
"You sent a message this morning, Comrade Colt," she said.
He looked up at her quickly. "Yes," he replied.
"Perhaps you should know that only Comrade Zveri is permitted to send messages from the expedition," she told him.
"I did not know," he said. "It was merely in relation to some funds that were to have been awaiting me when I reached the Coast. They were not there. I sent the boy back after them."