“What Russians?”
“All the Russians.”
“Good Lord!” said the Toreador. “Just pinch me, will you?”
William obeyed without a flicker of expression upon his face.
“Still here,” said the Toreador in a resigned tone of voice. “I thought it might be a nightmare. Well, there’s no harm in going to see. What’s he like?”
“Oh—just like a Russian,” said William vaguely. “Russian clothes an’ Russian face an’—an’—Russian boots.”
“How did he get here?”
“Walked,” said William calmly. “Walked all the way from Russia.”
“Does he speak English?”
“No. Russian.”