For Abel, there would always be something special about Constantinople, as he remembered the city. He was looking forward to opening a Baron in the country he had left to start a new life in America.
Vkfle he was unpacking his suitcase in yet another Presidential Suite, Abel found fifteen invitations awaiting his reply. There were always several invitations about the time of a hotel opening; a galaxy of freeloaders who wanted to be invited to any opening night party appeared on the scene as if by magic. On this occasion, however, two of the dinner invitations came as an agreeable surprise to Abel from men who certainly could not be classified as freeloaders: namely the ambassadors of America and Britain. The invitation to the old British embassy was particularly irresistible as he had not been inside the building for nearly forty years.
That evening, Abel dined as the guest of Sir Bernard Burrows, Her Majesty's Ambassador to Turkey. To his surprise he found that he had been placed at the right of the ambassador's wife, a privilege Abel had never been afforded in any other embassy in the past. When the dinner was over, he observed the quaint English tradition of the ladies leaving the room while the gentlemen sat alone to smoke cigars and drink port or brandy.
Abel was invited to join the American ambassador, Fletcher Warren, for port in Sir Bernard's study. Sir Bernard was taking the American ambassador to task for allowing him to have the Chicago Baron to dinner before he had.
'The British have always been a presumptuous race,' said the American ambassador, lighting a large Cuban cigar.
'I'll say one thing for the Americans.' said Sir Bernard. 'They don't know when they're fairly beaten.'
Abel listened to the two diplomats' banter, wondering why he had been included in such a private gathering. Sir Ber nard offered Abel some vintage port, and the American am bassad ' or raised his glass.
'To Abel Rosnovski,'he said.
Sir Bernard also raised his glass. 'I understand that congratulations are in order,' he said.
Abel reddened and looked hastily towards Fletcher Warren, hoping he would help him out.
10h, have I let the cat out of the bag, Fletcher?' said Sir Bernard, turning to the American ambassador. 'You told me the appointment was common knowledge, old chap.'
'Fairly common,' said Fletcher Warren. 'Not that the British could ever keep a secret for very long!
'Is that why your lot took such a devil of a time to discover we were at war with Germany?' replied Sir Bernard.
'And then moved in to make sure of the victory?'
'And the glory,' said Sir Bernard.
The American ambassador laughed. 'I'm told the official announcement will be made in the next few days.'
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