Alan nodded, his keen eyes on the closed windows. Bob ran to one near the street level, cold with a prickling dread of bullets in his back, climbed upon the stone coping and tried to force up the sash. The window was locked.
“Inhospitable beggars,” muttered Alan. He sprang on the coping and grasped the window shutters. “Push me up, Miller—on to the sill!” he ordered.
The orderly offered his shoulder for support. Alan reached the window-sill, clung there kneeling, and, driving his elbow through the glass of the upper frame, thrust in his hand and unlocked the catch. He threw open the window, pushed back the heavy curtains and stepped into the house. “All right,” he cried, holding out his hands to his companions.
The next moment all three were standing inside a luxuriously furnished room, leaving behind them the deadly rain of bullets and the wounded lying in the sunlit square.
“What now?” inquired Bob, glancing about him uncertainly. “We look uncommonly like housebreakers, but Heaven knows we had excuse enough.”
“Yes, my conscience doesn’t trouble me,” said Alan, closing the broken window. “I tell you, Bob, I had the shakes at thought of coming all through the war only to be brought down in the cross-fire of a silly Boche quarrel. You’ve found out something on your journey at any rate, my lad—the answer to one of those questions that are always worrying you. Whether or not there are Germans with the Bolsheviki at Archangel, there are certainly Bolshies in Germany.”
“I say, Alan, we’d better go and explain ourselves to somebody,” suggested Bob, smiling in spite of himself at the cool casualness which allowed Alan to stand and converse at his ease in any and all circumstances.
“Right-o. Shall we go on through the house? Doesn’t seem to be anyone in it. Pretty taste in furniture.”
The windows of the big drawing-room which they had entered were draped with red velvet and white lace curtains and its floor was covered with a red plush carpet. The cushions and upholstery of the massive chairs and sofas were of the same color, and on the chimneypiece stood huge gilt vases filled with artificial flowers. An air of gloomy richness pervaded everything.
The young officers and the orderly went on into a hall, across from which was a closed door. Carpeted stairs led to the second story. Behind the closed doors sounded the murmur of voices.