For surely
any one might outwit this foolish talker who, for a mere idea and at the
command of a little French rationalist in spectacles, had thrown away
the most ancient crown in all the world.
One must deny, deny....
And then slowly and quite tiresomely he realised that there was nothing
to deny. His visitor, with an amiable ease, went on talking about
everything in debate between himself and Brissago except----.
Could it be that they had been delayed? Could it be that they had had
to drop for repairs and were still uncaptured? Could it be that even
now while this fool babbled, they were over there among the mountains
heaving their deadly charge over the side of the aeroplane?
Strange hopes began to lift the tail of the Slavic fox again.
What was the man saying? One must talk to him anyhow until one knew. At
any moment the little brass door behind him might open with the news
of Brissago blown to atoms. Then it would be a delightful relief to the
present tension to arrest this chatterer forthwith. He might be killed
perhaps. What?
The king was repeating his observation. 'They have a ridiculous fancy
that your confidence is based on the possession of atomic bombs.'
King Ferdinand Charles pulled himself together. He protested.
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