They have drunk wine sweet and sour and have
swallowed the dregs. I am bringing them. It is enough."
"More than enough," declared the Greek with enthusiasm. He
bowed, although Grantham was not looking at him. "In the little
matter of fees I can rely upon your discretion, as always. Is it
not said that a good dragoman is a desirable husband?"
Major Grantham resettled himself in his chair.
"M. Agapoulos," he said icily, "we have done shady business
together for years, both in Port Said and in London, and have
remained the best of friends; two blackguards linked by our
common villainy. But if this pleasant commercial acquaintance is
to continue let there be no misunderstanding between us, M.
Agapoulos. I may know I'm a dragoman; but in future, old
friend"--he turned lazy eyes upon the Greek--"for your guidance,
don't remind me of the fact or I'll wring your neck."
The drooping eyelids of M. Agapoulos flickered significantly, but
it was with a flourish more grand than usual that he bowed.
"Pardon, pardon," he murmured. "You speak harshly of yourself,
but ah, you do not mean it. We understand each other, eh?"
"I understand you perfectly," drawled Grantham; "I was merely
advising you to endeavour to understand me.
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