"Who?" asked Stull, amazed.
"The Turkish Embassy in Paris. And do you know who plays the fine
Italian hand for that bunch of Turks?"
"No."
"Minna!"
"You're crazy!"
Brandes took no notice, but went on with a sort of hushed ferocity
that silenced both Stull and Curfoot: "That's why I went in. To get Minna. And I'll get her if it costs
every cent I've got or ever hope to get. That's why I'm in this deal;
that's why I came; that's why I'm here telling you this. I'm in it to
get Minna, not for the money, not for anything in all God's world
except to get the woman who has done what Minna did to me."
Neeland listened in vain to the murmuring voice; he could not catch a
word.
Stull whispered: "Aw, f'r God's sake, Eddie, that ain't the game. Do you want to
double-cross Quint?"
"I have double-crossed him."
"What! Do you mean to sell him out?"
"I have sold him out."
"Jesus! Who to?"
"To the British Secret Service. And there's to be one hundred thousand
dollars in it, Doc, for you and me to divide. And fifty thousand more
when we put the French bulls on to Minna and Breslau. Now, how does
one hundred and fifty thousand dollars against five thousand apiece
strike you two poor, cheap guys?"
But the magnitude of Brandes' treachery and the splendour of the deal
left the two gamblers stunned.
Only by their expressions could Neeland judge that they were
discussing matters of vital importance to themselves and probably to
him. He listened; he could not hear what they were whispering. And
only at intervals he dared glance over his book in their direction.
"Well," said Brandes under his breath, "go on. Spit it out. What's the
squeal?"
"My God!" whispered Stull. "Quint will kill you."
Brandes laughed unpleasantly: "Not me, Ben. I've got that geezer where I want him on a dirty deal he
pulled off with the police."
Curfoot turned his pointed muzzle toward the window and sneered at the
sunny landscape.
A few minutes later, far across the rolling plain set with villas and
farms, and green with hedgerows, gardens, bouquets of trees and
cultivated fields, he caught sight of a fairy structure outlined
against the sky. Turning to Brandes: "There's the Eiffel Tower," remarked Curfoot. "Where are we stopping,
Eddie?"
"Caffy des Bulgars."
"Where's that?"
"It's where we go to work--Roo Vilna."
Stull's smile was ghastly, but Curfoot winked at Brandes.
Neeland listened, his eyes following the printed pages of his book.