“I don’t even know the woman.”

His hands formed fists. He closed his eyes and went rigid all over. For a happy moment I thought he was going to have a stroke. Then he calmed himself down and found his way back into his chair. “I will not waste time with you,” he said. “The MNQ is a joke, a minor irritation. It is not worth our attention. It was foolish of you to attempt to enter Canada and disgusting that you would bring a child with you on such a mission. Of course you must return directly to the United States. You are persona non grata here. I will thank you to concern yourself with American affairs and leave Canadian matters to Canadians.” He consulted a piece of paper. “There is a flight to New York leaving in an hour and twenty minutes. You and your daughter will be on it. You will not return to Canada. Do you understand?”

Minna said, “We cannot go to Expo, Evan?”

“That’s what the man says.”

The man leaned over his desk to smile at Minna. The world’s worst scoundrels always attempt to display their humanity by smiling at children. “I would like to take you to see the fair, little girl, but your father is not allowed in our country.”

“Your mother,” said Minna in Armenian, “is a flea-ridden harlot who has unpardonable relations with the beasts of the field.”

He looked at me. “What language is that?”

“French,” I said.

They kept us in that room until our flight was boarding, and when Minna had to go to the ladies’ room, they sent a matron along with her. They gave me our passports as they put us on the plane, and this time there was no long wait for runway clearance. The flight back to New York was as pleasantly dull as the flight to Montreal. I had two drinks this time, and Minna had another glass of milk, and then we landed at Kennedy. It was close to one o’clock in the morning, Minna was asleep on her feet, and I was ready to dynamite the Canadian Embassy.