“Scarcely that, I fear. The traffic is disorganized and the direct line has been closed. You will travel by way of Bratinsk and change there; and then go round by the loop which joins the main line again at Solden.”
The ill news was so unexpected that it caught me right off my guard. To go to Bratinsk meant walking right into the hands of the men who were hunting for us.
To cover my sudden confusion, I let my cigar case fall, and as the official stooped to pick it up, I caught Volna’s look of dire dismay, and shot her a warning glance.
“You smoke of course,” I said to him, and as we lit our cigars, I was thinking how on earth to get out of the difficulty.
Then Volna gave another proof of her quick-wittedness. “Ought you to smoke just yet, Bob?” she asked in a snappy sisterly tone. “You know what the doctor said about your heart.”
I took the cue. “You’re always interfering, Peggy,” I said, very testily. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
The police official affected not to hear this little interchange of family amenities and discreetly looked away.
“I only do it for your good,” she rapped back, with a great air of superiority. “You complained of that feeling, you know. But please yourself. You always do.”
“Rubbish. It’s only because you know I want to go and you want to stay.” She shrugged her shoulders and turned away.
“If you are going, the time is close,” said the official.