"Very likely Foger is working with Berg," admitted Mr. Damon.
There go the Lancers of Berg; you see their scarlet dolmans, don't you?
And if this—Berg—thought him un-American for drinking an imported beverage, what of it?
Berg drew up a chair, sat down, and tilted it back against a wall.
Berg and Lancaster sat in the rear, and the secret agent chatted all the way.