AT the second summons Barosa roused himself.
“What will you do, Mr. Donnington. We have a secret means of leaving the house and——”
“I swear I had forgotten that,” exclaimed Maral, as he jumped up, grabbed his papers and made for the door.
“Wait please. Give me the letter which M. Volheno wrote me,” I said, stopping him.
He searched for it agitatedly and then thrust it into my hand. “Come on, Barosa,” he cried and darted away.
“Are you going to remain?” asked Barosa, hurriedly.
I nodded. “You won’t want to use this house again?”
“Of course not. But——”
The crash of glass below interrupted him, announcing that the police had broken in, and the next moment I had the room to myself and sat down to wait for the real police and find out how their treatment differed from that of the bogus ones.
With Volheno’s letter in my possession I had nothing to fear, and I glanced at it to make sure that Maral in his panic had handed me the right one—and then gave a start of surprise.