“So now you know vat you are to make! You like to do so much for Chermany, yes?”
“Oh yes! Yes!” said Mamise.
“You promise to do vat I send you vord?”
“Yes.” She would have promised to blow up the Capitol.
“Ach, how beautiful you are even in the dark! Kiss me!”
Remembering Judith, she paid that odious price, wishing that she might have the beast’s infamous head with a sword. It was a kiss of betrayal, but she felt that it was no Judas-kiss, since Nicky was no Christ.
He told her more of his plans in detail, and was so childishly proud of his superb achievements, past and future, that she could hardly persuade him to take her back to the station. He assured her that there was abundant time, but she would not trust his watch. She explained how necessary it was for her to return to Washington and to Polly Widdicombe’s house before midnight. And at last he yielded to her entreaties, opened the door, and leaned out to tell the driver to turn back.
Mamise was uneasy till they were out of the park and into the lighted streets again. But there was no safety here, for as they glided down Charles Street a taxicab going with the reckless velocity of taxicabs tried to cut across their path.
There was a swift fencing for the right of way, and then the two cars came together with a clash and much crumpling of fenders.
The drivers descended to wrangle over the blame, and Mamise had visions of a trip to the police station, with a consequent exposure. But Nicky was alive to the danger of notoriety. He got out and assumed the blame, taking the other driver’s part and offering to pay the damages.