Both men looked at Abel, who remained silent.
'Well, then may I be the first to congratulate you, Your Excellency,'
said Sir Bernard. 'I wish you every happiness in your new appointment.'
Abel flushed to hear aloud the appellation he had whispered so often to his shaving mirror during the past few months. Tou'll have to get used to being called Your Excellency, you know,' continued the British ambassador, 'and a whole lot of worse things than that, particularly all these damned functions you'll be made to attend one after another. If you have a weight problem now, it will be nothing compared to the one you'll have when you finish your term of office. You may yet live to be grateful for the Cold War. It's the one thing that might keep your social life within bounds.'
T11e American ambassador smiled. 'Well done, Abel, and may I add my best wishes for your continued success. When were you last in Poland?'he enquired.
'I've only been back home once for a short visit a few years ago,' said Abel. 'I've wanted to return ever since!
'Well, you will be returning in triumph,' said Fletcher Warren. 'Are you familiar with our embassy in Warsaw?'
'No, I'm not,'admitted Abel.
'Not a bad building,' said Sir Bernard. 'Remembering you colonials couldn't get a foothold in Europe until after the Second World War. But the food is appalling, I shall expect you to do something about that, Mr. Rosnovski. I'm afraid the only thing for it is that you'll have to build a Baron Hotel in Warsaw. As ambassador, that's the least they'll expect from an old Pole!
Abel sat in a state of euphoria, laughing and enjoying Sir Bernard's feeble jokes. He found he was drinking a little more port than usual and felt at ease with himself and the world. He couldn't wait to return to America and tell Florentyna his news, now that the appointment seemed to be official. She would be so proud of him. He decided then and there that the moment he arrived back in New York he would go straight to San Francisco and make everything up with her. It was what he had wanted to do all along and now he had an excuse. Somehow he'd force himself to like the Kane boy. He must stop referring to him as 'the Kane boy. What was his name - Richard? Yes, Richard. Abel felt a sudden rush of relief at having made the decision.
After the three men had returned to the main reception room and the ladies, Abel reached up and touched the British ambassador on the shoulder. 'I should be getting back, Your Excellency!
'Back to the Baron,' said Sir Bernard. 'Allow me to accompany you to your car, my dear fellow.'
The ambassador's wife bade him goodnight at the door.
'Goodnight, Lady Burrows, and thank you for a memorable evening.'
She smiled. 'I know I'm not meant to know, Mr. Rosnovski, but many congratulations on your appointment. You must be so proud to be returning to the land of your birth as your country's senior representative.'
'I am,' replied Abel simply.
Sir Bernard accompanied him down the marble steps of the British embassy to the waiting car. The chauffeur opened the door.
'Goodnight, Rosnovski,' said Sir Bernard, 'and good luck in Warsaw. By the way, I hope you enjoyed your first meal in the British embassy.'
'My second actually, Sir Bernard.'
'You've been before, old boy? When we checked through the guest book we couldn't find your name!
'No,' said Abel. 'Last time I had dinner in the British embassy, I ate in the kitchen. I don't think they keep a guest book down there, but the meal was the best I'd had in years!
Abel smiled as he climbed into the back of the car. He could see that Sir Bernard wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. As Abel was driven back to the Baron, his fingers tapped on the side windows, and he hummed to himself. He would have liked to have returned to America the next morning, but he couldn't cancel the invitation to dine with Fletcher Warren at the American embassy the following evening. Hardly the sort of thing a future ambassador does, old fellow, he could hear Sir Bernard saying.
Dinner with the American ambassador turned out to be another pleasant occasion. Abel was made to explain to the assembled guests how he had come to eat in the kitchens of the British embassy. When he told them the truth, they looked on in surprised admiration. He wasn't sure if many of them believed the story of how he nearly lost his hand, but they all admired the silver band, and that night, everyone called himYour Excellency.
Tle next day, Abel was up early, ready for his flight to America. The D.C.8 flew into Belgrade, where he was grounded for sixteen hours, waiting for the plane to be serviced. Something wrong with the landing gear, they told him.