At the aerodrome there was surprisingly little difficulty. Eaton’s passport was all in order. A tall effeminate officer danced attendance on Madame Karkoff. He made no trouble about the little cousin who had lost her papers and was so anxious about her mother. He could not do enough for Valeria Petrovna — bowing, saluting, and twisting his little fair moustache. He even provided extra rugs, which Richard was to return on the Warsaw ’plane.
Marie Lou had been tucked into the passenger’s seat, and Richard was about to climb into the cockpit. He turned to ask a last assurance from Valeria Petrovna.
“You are quite certain that you will succeed with Stalin?”
“Do not worry, Mistaire Eaton. I ’ave a way to make ’im do as I say.”
He nodded. “Where shall I wait for Simon? Warsaw would be best, I think?”
She smiled above her furs. “I would not do that, Mistake Eaton. You would ’ave to wait a very long time.”
“Why?” Richard frowned.
“Simon cannot leave Russia — ’e ’as been to the forbidden territory — ’e knows perhaps too much. Stalin would not ’ave that.”
“But he can’t stay here for ever!” Richard gasped. “There’s his business in London — all sorts of things!”
She shrugged her beautiful shoulders and smiled again. “Why should ’e not? — ’is business is not everything. Many people ’ere in Russia ’ave learned to do without their businesses these last years.”