Delicate Ape
“Evanhurst in a dressing-gown striped of purple and red and golden satin playing with his morning cup of tea, his reed-like Virginia cigarette a finger between his lips. It wouldn’t be difficult to get rid of Evanhurst, a pellet in his tea, a doctored cigarette. Schern wouldn’t hesitate if he wanted Watkins to take over.
Piers folded his napkin in his hand. He said, “I was there. I know the border incidents are incidents, no more. There is no need to send the International Force in.”
Evanhurst mulled, “It is a beginning. Minor yes, but unless it is watched, each flicker stamped out—” He turned the cup in his fingers.
Piers said, “There will not be war.”
“No, by Gad.” The old man’s head rattled. “There will not be war. We will not permit war again.” His eyes were canny. “We are able to prevent it. We will send in our International troops. We will watch as we have watched in Germany these years.” For him, the armed supervision of Germany was already in the past.
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