there was no echo of the previous evening's strain, apart from a twinge or two. Miss Perrell was the perfect hostess, and they were all highly amused by the newspaper account of "gang-warfare again." In fact, Solo thought, if he could only get used to the lady's habit of wearing dresses that looked as if they had been designed for a stunted twelve year old, he could have enjoyed himself very much.
"I've had my instructions," she told them, "and we're all going for a brisk run down to Folkestone this morning. It will give me a chance to see the place where Mary got it, and where your Mr. Guard lives. You must tell me more about him."
"You'd probably get on with him," Solo suggested. "May be we could call in and see him if he's allowed visitors."
"All right," she said. "Now, the sooner we start the better, as it's a busy road. But you already know that, as you drove down there the day before yesterday, didn't you?"
"We went early. Tip from John to beat the traffic."
"Wise man. I like him already,"
By nine o'clock the A20 had taken them as far as Farmingham, and on her suggestion, they halted long enough to let Kuryakin take the wheel, so that she could sit between them in the front seat.
"Getting to be a habit," she chuckled. "Actually, it's only because I hate talking across somebody and I like to be in the middle of things. While we're on the subject, you two are going to need a car. Be advised, please. Not a hired job. Not a flashy great thing like this, either. I am deliberately conspicuous, as I've told you. But you two should aim at something old, second-hand, inconspicuous."
"Just how do we acquire that?"
"Very simply. I'll give you the name and address of a little dealer I know, and he will fix you up, no awkward questions asked. Now, tell me about John Guard. Is he as handy as you two at smearing the opposition?"
"I'll tell you this." Solo was suddenly very serious. "Johnny used to carry all the gadgetry and gimmicks we all do, but he never liked them. His feeling was that you grow to count on a gun or a minibomb or things like that. Then, after a while, you're leaning on them like crutches. You get fat and slow. He always preferred to use only his hands, and without any doubt at all he could put me and Illya away for keeps without turning a hair. If he wanted to, that is. But he wouldn't even move unless he was personally involved." He watched her profile, saw the breeze stirring pink in her cheek and the butter blonde hair whipping away from her face.
"In a way, it was a handicap to him in U.N.C.L.E. You see , we get our orders, instructions that say so and so is a menace, get rid of him. Or here's a group that has to be smashed, go and do it. And we do as we're told. Most of the time, anyway!" he added, as Kuryakin cleared his throat thoughtfully. "Johnny obeyed orders too, but he never liked it. On the other hand, just let him get the conviction that so and so really was a rat, and you wouldn't stop him with a concrete wall!"
"You obviously admire him," she said.
"I hadn't met him before," Kuryakin offered, "so I can speak from first hand experience this time only. But Green shot him in the chest with both barrels of a shotgun, from no more than two feet. That was about eleven-thirty. We got there just before eight o'clock the next morning and he was still conscious. He hung on simply because he knew we were coming and wanted to be sure we knew all about it. Not because of the shot, but because of Mary."
"What's more," Solo endorsed, "I'll gamble they're having a time of it just keeping him in bed while we're chasing his game. He's that sort of person. You'll see."
"And you think I'm like that?"
"Well," Solo drawled, "let's just say you're not the type that gives up easily. Let's talk about you, eh?"
"Oh no!" she was prompt and firm. "No you don't. As I told you last night, I'm willing to put the goods in the window. They are good goods, and I know it. I welcome inspection, any time."
"But the
"I've had my instructions," she told them, "and we're all going for a brisk run down to Folkestone this morning. It will give me a chance to see the place where Mary got it, and where your Mr. Guard lives. You must tell me more about him."
"You'd probably get on with him," Solo suggested. "May be we could call in and see him if he's allowed visitors."
"All right," she said. "Now, the sooner we start the better, as it's a busy road. But you already know that, as you drove down there the day before yesterday, didn't you?"
"We went early. Tip from John to beat the traffic."
"Wise man. I like him already,"
By nine o'clock the A20 had taken them as far as Farmingham, and on her suggestion, they halted long enough to let Kuryakin take the wheel, so that she could sit between them in the front seat.
"Getting to be a habit," she chuckled. "Actually, it's only because I hate talking across somebody and I like to be in the middle of things. While we're on the subject, you two are going to need a car. Be advised, please. Not a hired job. Not a flashy great thing like this, either. I am deliberately conspicuous, as I've told you. But you two should aim at something old, second-hand, inconspicuous."
"Just how do we acquire that?"
"Very simply. I'll give you the name and address of a little dealer I know, and he will fix you up, no awkward questions asked. Now, tell me about John Guard. Is he as handy as you two at smearing the opposition?"
"I'll tell you this." Solo was suddenly very serious. "Johnny used to carry all the gadgetry and gimmicks we all do, but he never liked them. His feeling was that you grow to count on a gun or a minibomb or things like that. Then, after a while, you're leaning on them like crutches. You get fat and slow. He always preferred to use only his hands, and without any doubt at all he could put me and Illya away for keeps without turning a hair. If he wanted to, that is. But he wouldn't even move unless he was personally involved." He watched her profile, saw the breeze stirring pink in her cheek and the butter blonde hair whipping away from her face.
"In a way, it was a handicap to him in U.N.C.L.E. You see , we get our orders, instructions that say so and so is a menace, get rid of him. Or here's a group that has to be smashed, go and do it. And we do as we're told. Most of the time, anyway!" he added, as Kuryakin cleared his throat thoughtfully. "Johnny obeyed orders too, but he never liked it. On the other hand, just let him get the conviction that so and so really was a rat, and you wouldn't stop him with a concrete wall!"
"You obviously admire him," she said.
"I hadn't met him before," Kuryakin offered, "so I can speak from first hand experience this time only. But Green shot him in the chest with both barrels of a shotgun, from no more than two feet. That was about eleven-thirty. We got there just before eight o'clock the next morning and he was still conscious. He hung on simply because he knew we were coming and wanted to be sure we knew all about it. Not because of the shot, but because of Mary."
"What's more," Solo endorsed, "I'll gamble they're having a time of it just keeping him in bed while we're chasing his game. He's that sort of person. You'll see."
"And you think I'm like that?"
"Well," Solo drawled, "let's just say you're not the type that gives up easily. Let's talk about you, eh?"
"Oh no!" she was prompt and firm. "No you don't. As I told you last night, I'm willing to put the goods in the window. They are good goods, and I know it. I welcome inspection, any time."
"But the
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