"Tiro maestro," she applauded, and launched another at the unprepared Mikhail with a cry of "Catch, goffo." Instinctively, he "made a lap" and spread out his hands.
"Esattamente!" commented Carmelita beneath her breath and apparently lost interest in the little group.…
A quartet of Legionaries swaggered into the café and approached the bar—Messieurs Malvin, Borges, Bauer and Hirsch, henchmen and satellites of Luigi Rivoli—and saluted to Carmelita's greeting of "Buona sera, Signori…."
"Bonsoir, M. Malvin," added she to the dapper, low-bowing Austrian, whose evil face, with its close-set ugly eyes, sharp crooked nose, waxed moustache, and heavy jowl, were familiar to her as those of one of Luigi's more intimate followers. "Where is Signor Luigi Rivoli to-night? He has no guard duty?"
"No, mia signora—er—that is—yes," replied Malvin in affected discomfort. "He is—ah—on duty."
"On duty in the Canteen?" asked Carmelita, flushing.
"What do I know of the comings and goings of the great Luigi Rivoli?" answered Malvin. "Doubtless he will fortify himself with a litre of wine at Madame's bar in the Canteen before walking down here."
"Luigi Rivoli drinks no sticky Algerian wine," said Carmelita angrily and her eyes and teeth flashed dangerously. "He drinks Chianti from Home. He never enters her Canteen."
"Ah! So?" murmured Malvin in a non-committal manner. And then Carmelita's anxiety grew a little greater—greater even than her dislike and distrust
