branch. Jake stood back and wiped his hands on a lump of cotton waste
soaked in gasoline.
'Coffee break,' he said, and went to the fire. He poured two mugs full
of black coffee and took them to where Vicky sat.
'How are you doing?' he asked, glancing at the page in her typewriter.
'Pulitzer stuff, is it?' Vicky laughed, as she accepted the mug of
coffee. 'Prizes never go to the best man.'
'Or to those who really want them,' agreed Jake, sitting down opposite
her, and she felt a flare of annoyance that he had turned the
conversation so neatly.
'Damn you, Jake Barton. I don't have to answer to you or to anybody,'
she said softly.
'Right,' he said. 'Quite right. You're a big girl now but just
remember that you're playing with the big boys. And some of them play
very rough.'
'Is there any charge, counsellor?' She looked up at him defiantly, and
then she saw the look in his eyes and the anger shrivelled within
her.
'I don't want to fight with you, Vicky,' he said softly.
'That's the last thing in the world I want to do.' He swallowed the
last of his coffee. 'Well,' he said, 'back to work.
'You give up easily, don't you?' Vicky didn't realize she had spoken
until the words were out, and then she wanted them back but
Jake cocked an eye, at her, and he grinned that big boyish grin of
his.
'Giving up?' Now he laughed aloud. 'Oh, lady! If you believe that
then you do me wrong, - a grave injustice.' And he moved slowly
towards where she sat and stood over her.
The laughter faded from his voice and from his eyes as he spoke in a
new husky tone.
'You really are very lovely.'
'Jake.' She held his eyes. 'I wish
I could explain but I just don't understand myself' He touched her
cheek and stooped down to her. 'No, Jake, please don't-' she said and
made no effort to avoid his lips, but before they touched hers, there
was the -urgent sound of galloping hooves, coming up through the
forest.
The two of them drew slowly apart, still watching each other's eyes and
Gregorius Maryarn rode into the camp on a shaggy little mountain
pony.
'Jake,' he called, sliding down off the saddle. 'It's war! It's
begun! The Italians have crossed the Mareb. Gareth has just told my
grandfather.'
'The timely messenger,' murmured Vicky, but her voice was a little
shaky, and her smile lopsided.
'I've come to help you fix my car, Jake. We must be ready to fight,'
called Gregorius, and tossed his reins to the servant who followed him.
'Let's get to work. There is little time my grandfather has called all
his commanders to a war council at noon. He wants you there.'
Gregorius turned away and hurried to the gutted hulk of
