"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.
"I'm having the same, as a matter of fact," said Berg mildly.
These, Berg explained, were the technicians who would be helping Lancaster.
Then—probably—he'd only be shot for betraying Berg's confidence.
Or if the ice on which she floated, fouled some other berg it might cost us all our spars.
But who he was that stayed on at Berg, August could not make out at all.
