That was a near thing, too. But they weren't quite ready then.
Now they are ready, and they think we're not. If I were asked, I'd
say we ought to let them know we're ready for 'em. They want to fight
because they think they can catch us napping; they'd think twice if
they knew they couldn't do it."
"Are they blind and deaf? Can't they see and hear?"
"_Quern deus vult perdere, prius dementat_, Ponsonby, my boy."
The man in drab silk slipped into a chair next to Kirby's as a wolf
slips into his lair, very circumspectly, and without noise; then he
rutched the chair sidewise toward Kirby with about as much noise as a
company of infantry would make.
"Had a drink?" he asked, as Kirby looked up from his paper. "Have
one?"
"Ginger ale, please," said Kirby, putting the paper down.
A turbaned waiter brought long glasses in which ice tinkled, and the
two sipped slowly, not looking at each other.
"Know Yasmini?" asked the man in drab silk suddenly.
"Heard of her, of course."
"Ever see her?"
"No."
"Ah! Most extraordinary woman. Wonderful!"
Kirby looked puzzled, and held his peace.
"Any of your officers ever visit her?"
"Not when they're supposed to be on duty."
"But at other times?"
"None of my affair if they do. Don't know, I'm sure."
"Um-m-m!"
"Yes," said Kirby, without vehemence.
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