He glanced at me, then. “I’m sorry about the disturbance, but there shouldn’t be any more. I think that was the last of them.”
I swallowed, still shaken by the recent violence. “Are they Romanian guerrilla fighters?”
Lajos nodded.
“You set a trap for them?”
“We were ready for them,” Lajos amended, adding briefly, “We tracked them down yesterday.”
“Oh.”
He transferred his attention to the silent women in the cart, who had been watching this brief exchange between us with interest. “Ladies, have you room for any more on there?”
One of them, a rather stringy blond, screeched with joy. “Bless you, Captain, are you going to join us at last? Under your wife’s very nose?”
Naturally, Lajos was not in the least put out, either by the suggestion or by the ribald, distinctly unmusical laughte
