"Please, m'sieu, a little respect for the situation!" M. Tourneau looked pained.
"The contest is to be in Slan's ship at eight o'clock tonight," Moskov answered. "They will pick you up here in five hours."
"You and me both, Joe," Mike said.
"Yeah," Joe answered, and now he was mentally reeling under the impact of his responsibility. "Let's have a drink first. I think we'll need one."
Sir Manly paled. "I say...."
"We'll murder them damn Greeks," Mike chortled.
"Shay, I'm not goin' in that thing," Mike protested.
"Can't fight 'em if we don't," Joe answered mournfully.
"They're big enough, all right," Mike admitted respectfully. "Wouldn't some football coach like to have one o' them on his squad!"