“It is very sad, monsieur. Well, I will have these things taken away.”
“You can take them away yourself,” I said.
“I am very sorry, monsieur, but my orders are not to leave the room again. I am to stay with you.”
And my heart sank as he touched the bell, and we waited, in silence until the trays had been fetched. Then he stood close to the doorway between the two rooms.
It began to look as if there would be a tussle of strength before I got away, and I measured him in my eye with this thought present to me. He was a slightly built wiry little man, no sort of a match for me if it came to a trial of strength; but I preferred another way if it could be managed.
“Where shall I remain, monsieur?” he asked after a time.
“Was it you who ransacked my pockets this morning?” I asked, recalling Kalkov’s words.
“By the Prince’s orders, monsieur. We all fear him—but we all hate him. We dare not disobey him.”
Whether he meant me to understand anything by this or not I could not tell, but the time was pressing so fast that my anxiety drove me to bring matters to a crisis, and soon I had a plan. Any moment might now find me in the hands of the police.
I got up and passed into the bedroom, my purpose being to catch him suddenly at a disadvantage, fling him on to the bed, and smother his cries with the pillows while I tied him up and gagged him.