"And what of that?" cried Keenan blindly. Frank saw, to her joy, that he was misled.
"Simply this: that if the lady I speak of hands those papers to me, here, the matter is closed, for all time!"
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then she will do so later!"
A grunt of sheer rage broke from Keenan's lips. But he checked it, suddenly, and wheeled on the woman.
"Give him the package," he ordered. She hesitated, for at the moment the thought of Keenan's trust had passed from her mind.
"Do as I say," he repeated curtly.
Frank, remembering, drew the yellow manila envelope from her bosom, and with out-stretched arm handed it to Pobloff.
The Russian took it in silence. Then with a few quick strides he advanced to the alcohol lamp. As he did so both Keenan and Frank noticed for the first time the blunt little gun-metal revolver he held in his right hand.
"Again you will pardon me," said Pobloff, with his ever-scoffing courtliness. "A mere glance will be necessary, to make sure that we are not—mistaken!"