It sounded like “Boche!” And Nicky flushed.
“You have been in this Washington town too long. I think I shall go now.”
Marie Louise made no objection. She had not found out what he was up to, but she was sick of duplicity, sick of the sight of him and all he stood for. She did not even ask him to come again. She went to the door with him and stood there a moment, long enough for the man who was shadowing Nicky to identify her. She watched Nicky go and hoped that she had seen the last of him. But up-stairs the great heart of Jake Nuddle was seething with excitement. He ran to the front window, caught a glimpse of Nicky, and hurried back down the stairs.
Abbie called out, “Where you goin’?”
Jake did not answer such a meddlesome question, but he said to Marie Louise, as he brushed past her on the stairs:
“I’m going to the drug-store to git me some cigars.”
Nicky paused on the curb, looking for a cab. He had dismissed his own, hoping to spend a long while with Marie 165 Louise. He saw that he was not likely to pick up a cab in such a side-street, and so he walked on briskly.
He was furious with Marie Louise. He had had hopes of her, and she had fooled him. These Americans were no longer dependable.
And then he heard footsteps on the walk, quick footsteps that spelled hurry. Nicky drew aside to let the speeder pass; but instead he heard a constabular “Hay!” and his shoulder-blades winced.
It was only Jake Nuddle. Jake had no newspaper to sell, but he had an idea for a collaboration which would bring him some of that easy money the Germans were squandering like drunken sailors.