The Bellini Card

39

It was shortly before eight o’clock that Palewski returned to his apartment from the hotel where he had spent the night.

He found three puffy-faced young men already struggling into their underwear.

“Got to get back to the consul,” Compston croaked, shading his eyes. “To get our things.” He fished up a pocket watch and stared at it, a look of horror spreading across his flushed features. “Oh my God! Fizerly! We’ve only got half an hour left!”

“All taken care of,” Palewski said crisply. “I had everything sent to the ship.”

Compston’s eyes filled with tears. “Palewski, old man. I–I don’t know what to say. You’re the most capital fellow I ever met.”