Smith closed the door behind him and sat heavily on the bed. "I didn't want that guy out there to get any idea there was anything fishy between you and me," he said. "That's why I told him we both went to Ohio State together and was fraternity brothers. For the same reason I told all them dirty jokes -- just to remove suspicions."
"What suspicions?"
"Listen. I'll level with you. I'm in a position to offer you a substantial amount of dough just for a little unimportant favor -- and as a matter of loyalty to the United States Government, probably." Smith was sweating heavily now, constantly mopping his face with an unclean handkerchief and compulsively staring over his right shoulder, at what would seem to be his own reflection in the wardrobe mirror. "All you got to do is keep a little bundle for me until I'm able to ;pick it up. And if I can't pick it up, all you got to do is bring it back with you to the states when you return."
Pond cleared his throat nervously. "Oh, come now," he remonstrated, you can't expect me to believe that just for keeping this package of yours -- substantial sum of money -- till you pick it up -- or take it with me to America -- loyalty -- but what's in the package?"
"Very possibly important documents concerning the welfare of the United States of America. I mean indirectly, anyway. Only they're not exactly documents. That's why you can't tell the customs people you got this bundle. You can't even..."
"If they're documents they could be transmitted by top secret cable without waiting till I go home, which will be late in September. Your problem is simple. Just-get in touch with the American Embassy here in Rome and have them transmit..."
"Well, they're more drawings, like, more than just writing -- I mean not exactly documents the way I said, and..."
"Well then, you can have them transported by top secret courier. Just go to the Embassy and..."
"You're not being a loyal American," Smith interrupted angrily.
"No, you misunderstand me, my dear Smith," Pond objected. "The point is that if there's risky work of this sort to be done, then the people to entrust it to are the experts, the folks in the diplomatic corps." He paused, suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all. "Why, for all you know I might be an unloyal American. I mean you have no proof to go on, nothing positive, and..."
"But there's a substantial amount of dough in it for you!" Smith mumbled angrily.
"Yes, Smith, but the point is I might bungle the job!"
"You refuse then. As a loyal American, you refuse."
"I don't refuse. It's just that..."
"You are a fine fellow and I respect your judgment. No! No, say no more," Smith protested. "But you will let me drive you to your new room."
"That's very kind of you, but I..."
"Let me do you this favor," Smith commanded. "Let me help you. I'll see you in ten minutes."
"But..."
But Smith had already lurched from the room.
Accordingly, in ten minutes he reappeared. In fifteen minutes he and Pond made the slim descent in the elevator, entered Smith's rented Simca, drove by fits and starts till they reached Porta Pia on the Corso d'Italia, and entered the lobby of Pond's new abode.
"It's on the seventh floor," Pond said. "I'll take the things up myself, and I want to thank..."
"I'm gonna help you."
And Pond's persistent companion, breathing most heavily and sweating most profusely, followed him up the seven flights to Interno Sette -- Apartment Seven.
Pond had been bothered from the beginning by Smith's carrying a brown-paper bundle tied with coarse black string, evidently a laundry bundle, which, for no apparent reason, he had elected to bring with him from the pensione. Now, turning from the room, preparatory to a final exit, pursuant to prolonged adieux, Smith blurted out suddenly: "And oh, would you mind keeping this dirty wash for me till I can stop by and pick it up. And thanks a lot."
And with that -- and without the bundle -- Smith was gone.