"I'm not. A revolution would burst open the Latonka Trust like a ripe watermelon. Peet would be lucky if he got away with his pants. But...."
A discreet knocking at the door interrupted him. Miss Webb clapped her hand to her mouth as if to stifle a scream.
"Don't open it," she hissed loud enough to be heard on the next floor.
Jaro drew his slug gun, threw off the latch, then with a swift cat-like movement yanked open the door.
Just outside stood a serving wagon loaded with food. The native waiter looked up, startled at the sudden opening of the door, and found himself staring down the barrel of Jaro's slug gun. His yellow eyes popped out like agates and he almost completed a back somersault.
"Bring it in," said Jaro sheathing the gun.
With a reproachful glance the waiter set the dishes on the table and retreated hastily. The serving wagon took the curve into the hall on two wheels.
Suppressed giggles rocked Joan's body. "Oh, if you could have seen yourself." She burst out laughing. "The mother bird defending its young." She rocked back and forth in the chair.
"You'd better come eat," said Jaro stiffly, "before the food gets cold."
Joan stifled her laughter, wiped the tears out of her eyes, pulled up a chair.