Indeed, some enthusiastic fraternization is happening in a nearby bedroom -- and by "fraternization," I mean "penetration." A blonde lady vigorously rides a tall, skinny, pale U.S. soldier named Janovec. While she moans and quivers, he stares entranced at her bare breasts, looking completely fascinated by this thing called "acting" and wondering if every job is this fantastic. He's going to buy his agent a Jaguar for this. Is there a boob mandate at HBO? I can just see the programming execs giving notes on the concentration-camp episode. "Love it. Good stuff. Groundbreaking television," they gush. "But didn't World War II have more boobies in it? Because there's no Emmy without breasts." And so Restraint gets drop-kicked out the window and replaced with Gratuity, who's just as nice but dresses real slutty and has wandering hands. Gracefully, Janovec flips his bitch over and pumps her with renewed interest, all the while carefully holding onto the covers so as to shield the fact that she's probably wearing jeans. As she's shrieking, "Ja! Ja!" Janovec freezes, hearing Speirs's voice and footsteps. He leaps off Fraulein Boobenklaus and stands at attention, nude, saluting the entering Speirs with whatever happens to be rigid. Speirs doesn't even react. "Where's my stuff?" he asks, as Fraulein Jumblyheisen giggles in bed. Janovec points to a silver tea service sitting atop a dresser, untainted by the sin of fornication. Speirs grabs it and leaves, totally unfazed. Janovec snickers.
Speirs carries his loot through town, but a Jeep nearly flattens him, which would be tragic -- after all, brain matter and blood can really devalue a piece of silver. Nixon sits in the Jeep. Looking sullen, he tells the driver to stop and let him out. Speirs continues into the post office, bumping into two men on their way out. Vest cheerfully greets Speirs. "Got a box all this stuff will fit into?" Speirs asks, dumping his loot on the counter. Vest promises to box it all up and send it first thing in the morning to the usual destination. "Boy, your folks will sure have quite a collection by the time you...get home, sir," Vest says. I can't figure out why he paused like that, but whatever. The book reveals that Speirs sent everything to his wife in England. Bitch ended up leaving him for her presumed-dead first husband, and keeps the goodies and Speirs's son. Now, I know Matthew Settle isn't the real Speirs, but still -- you don't leave that. Speirs looks at Vest and grins coolly. "Finders keepers," he says, a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes.