“In one respect,” Wolfe objected, “that statement is not accurate. We do not wish to show papers, for an excellent reason. We have no papers to show.”
“Hah!” Jubé cried in triumph.
One of the men said reasonably, “Merely the usual papers, nothing special. You can’t live without papers.”
“We have none.”
“I don’t believe it. Then where are they?”
“This is not a matter for clerks,” Jubé declared. “Tell Gospo Stritar, and I’ll take them in to him.”
Either they didn’t like being called clerks, or they didn’t like Jubé, or both. They gave him dirty looks and exchanged mutterings, and one of them disappeared through an inner door, closing it behind him. Soon it opened again, and he stood holding it. I got the impression that Jubé was not specifically included in the invitation to pass through, but he came along, bringing up the rear.
This room was bigger but just as dingy. The glass in the high narrow windows had apparently last been washed the day the name had been changed from Podgorica to Tito-grad, four years ago. Of the two big old desks, one was unoccupied, and behind the other sat a lantern-jawed husky with bulging shoulders, who needed a haircut. Evidently he had been in conference with an individual in a chair at the end of the desk — one younger and a lot uglier, with a flat nose and a forehead that slanted back at a sharp angle from just above the eyebrows. The husky behind the desk, after a quick glance at Wolfe and me, focused on Jubé with no sign of cordiality.
“Where did you get these men?” he demanded.
Jubé told him. “They appeared at my father’s house, from nowhere, and asked to be driven to Podgorica. The big fat one said Podgorica. He said he would pay two thousand dinars or six American dollars. He knew we have an automobile and a telephone. When his request was refused he told my father to telephone the Ministry of the Interior in Belgrade, Room Nineteen, and ask if he should cooperate with a man calling himself Toné Stara. My father thought it unnecessary to telephone, and commanded me to drive them to Titograd. On the way they talked together in a foreign tongue which I don’t know but which I think was English. The big fat one told me to let them out at the north end of the square, but I brought them here instead, and now I am fully justified. They admit they have no papers. It will be interesting to hear them explain.”