The Russian did not reply for a minute or two. He stood stroking his long, silky, black beard and smiling quietly to himself.
"So," he said at last, "it is like that. Very well. The lady will be pleased to come with me."
"It's all right, Bundle," said Bill. "Leave it to me. You go with this chap. Nobody's going to hurt you. I know what I'm doing."
Bundle rose obediently. That note of authority in Bill's voice was new to her. He seemed absolutely sure of himself and confident of being able to deal with the situation. Bundle wondered vaguely what it was that Bill had—or thought he had—up his sleeve.
She passed out of the room in front of the Russian. He followed her, closing the door behind him and locking it.
"This way, please," he said.
He indicated the staircase and she mounted obediently to the floor above. Here she was directed to pass into a small, frowsy room, which she took to be Alfred's bedroom.
Mosgorovsky said: "You will wait here quietly, please. There must be no noise."
Then he went out, closing the door behind him and locking her in.
Bundle sat down on a chair. Her head was aching badly still and she felt incapable of sustained thought. Bill seemed to have the situation well in hand. Sooner or later, she supposed, someone would come and let her out.