"But they are good men. They serve me well. They are the man power, I am the brains; and we divide the profits of our operations equally—half to the man power, half to the brains," said Capietro and grinned.
"And your operations?" asked Stabutch.
Capietro scowled; then his face cleared. "You are a comrade, but let me tell you that it is not always safe to be inquisitive."
Stabutch shrugged. "Tell me nothing," he said. "I do not care. It is none of my business."
"Good," exclaimed the Italian, "and why you are here in Africa is none of my business, unless you care to tell me. Let us drink again."
While the conversation that ensued, punctuated by numerous drinks, carefully eschewed personalities, the question of the other's occupation was uppermost in the mind of each; and as the natural effects of the liquor tended to disarm their suspicions and urge confidences it also stimulated the curiosity of the two, each of whom was now mellow and genial in his cups.
It was Capietro who broke first beneath the strain of an over-powering curiosity. They were sitting side by side upon a disreputably filthy rug, two empty bottles and a newly opened one before them. "Comrade," he cried, throwing an arm about the shoulders of the Russian affectionately, "I like you. Dominic Capietro does not like many men. This is his motto: Like few men and love all women," whereat he laughed loudly.
"Let us drink to that," suggested Stabutch, joining in the laughter. "'Like few men and love all women.' That is the idea!"
"I knew the minute I saw you that you were a man after my own heart, comrade," continued Capietro, "and why should there be secrets between comrades?"
"Certainly, why?" agreed Stabutch.