"I have faced danger and risked my life before this," said Justus Miles quietly.
The other nodded. "Then that is all I am prepared to tell you at this time."
Justus Miles accompanied Ward to his room where the latter laid out for him a change of clothing. It was luxurious to splash in warm water and bath-salts after the enforced griminess of weeks. The clothes fitted him fairly well, the two men being of a size. Lounging in his friend's room after a substantial meal, and smoking a Turkish cigarette, he questioned Ward more closely.
"Who is the old fellow?"
"I don't know. He hired me through an advertisement and then set me to employing others."
"But surely you know where we are going?"
"Hardly more than you do. Solino did say there was a country, a city to be invaded. Whereabouts is a secret. I can't say I care for going it blind, but neither do I like starving to death. I was in about the same shape you were when you applied. Desperate."
Justus Miles stretched himself comfortably.
"A spiggoty by the looks of him," he said; "negro blood, no doubt. Well, fighting's my trade. I'd rather cash in fighting than sit on a park bench. I suppose the old boy will tell us more in good time, and until then we're sitting pretty, with good eats to be had; so why worry?"
And yet if Justus Miles had been able to look ahead he might not have talked so blithely.