"Archie." It was about as hostile as his voice ever got. "I have skedaddled, physically, once in my life, from one person, and that was a Montenegrin woman. It was many years ago, but my nerves remember it. I neither desire nor intend to explain how I felt when that Montenegrin female voice in there said 'hvala Bogu.' Send her away."

"But there's no-"

"Archie!"

I saw it was hopeless, though I had no idea whether he was overcome by terror or was staging a stunt. I gave it up and went back to the office and stood in front of her.

"Mr Wolfe regrets that he will be unable to help your friend out of her trouble. He's busy."

Her head was tilted back to look up at me, and a little gasp left her mouth open. "But he can't-he must!" She jumped to her feet and I backed up a step as her eyes flashed at me. "We are from Tsernagora! She is-my friend is-" Indignation choked it off.

"It's final," I said brusquely. "He won't touch it. Sometimes I can change his mind for him, but there are limits. What does 'hvala Bogu.' mean?"

She stared. "It means 'Thank God.' If I see him, tell him-"

"You shouldn't have said it. It gives him the willies to hear a Montenegrin female voice talk Montenegrin. It's a kind of allergy. I'm sorry, Miss Lovchen, but there's not a chance. I know him from A to P, which is as far as he goes. P is for pig-headed."

"But he-I must see him, tell him-"

She was stubborn enough herself so that it took five minutes to persuade her out, and since the only prejudice I had acquired against Montenegrin females up to that point was based merely on pronunciation, which is not after all vital, I didn't want to get rough. Finally, I closed the front door behind her and went to the kitchen and announced sarcastically: