"But this is not the consulate!" she protested, looking first at the house and then up and down the street. She had never seen the consulate, but she knew it would not be in such a house nor in such a street. Besides, there was no flag above the door.
"No, it is not the consulate," said Pachmann smoothly, and turned to Vard. "I found, at the last moment, that there was a reception at the consulate to-day which would make our conference there impossible. I managed to procure this house, where one of our secretaries lives, and where we will be secure against interruption. But if you prefer the consulate, we can, of course, wait until to-morrow—"
"No, no," Vard broke in. "Let us get it finished at once—there has been too much delay."
"I agree with you," said Pachmann. "I, also, am anxious to get the affair settled," and he led the way into the house. "If you will wait here, Miss Vard," he added, and pulled aside the hangings before a door opening from the hall. "We will not be long."
Kasia stepped through the doorway, and the curtain dropped behind her. She heard the footsteps of her companions mounting the stair to the upper story; then all was still. She glanced about the room; it was a rather small one, furnished as a sitting-room, with furniture both cheap and scant. There were two windows, side by side, which opened upon a little court or area-way closed in by high walls, topped by an ugly and formidable iron chevaux-de-frise, which would be equally effective in preventing any one getting in or getting out.
She soon exhausted the interest of this limited prospect, and, turning back to the room, spent a long half-hour wandering about it, looking at this and that, endeavouring to keep her thoughts occupied. She was vaguely uneasy, a feeling of oppression weighed upon her, and from moment to moment she caught herself listening for some sound, but the house was absolutely still. Finally she drew a chair to one of the windows, and sitting down, stared out again into the little court. It was dark and damp and well-like and apparently never swept, for its pavement was littered with rubbish. Again she caught herself listening, her head half-turned. But she heard no sound. It must be past the middle of the afternoon; she should be getting home to set their rooms in order, for to-night Dan was coming....
And again she was listening, rigid, breathless in her chair. There was no sound; but suddenly, with nerves a-quiver, she sprang to her feet, crossed the room and swept back the hangings at the door. She was surprised to find that the door itself had been closed. She turned the knob, but the door did not open; she shook it, but it held fast. And then she realised that it was locked.
It was a moment before she understood. Then, very quietly, she crossed the room to another door and tried it. She had expected it to be locked also, but to her surprise it opened. Beyond it was a bedroom, also with a window opening on the walled court, and beyond the bedroom was a windowless bathroom. There were no other doors.
She returned to the outer room and again tried the door, testing it cautiously but firmly with her whole strength. Yes; there could be no doubt of it—she was locked in. She went to one of the windows, raised the sash and looked out. It was at least a twelve-foot drop to the flagged pavement of the court. That might be managed with the help of the bed-clothes, but there remained the high wall and the threatening iron spikes. Below her, she could see that a small door opened from the court into the basement of the house, but it had no other exit.
She found the fresh air welcome, and sat down, at last, before the open window. She was much calmer than she had been; now that she was face to face with danger, the feeling of oppression vanished and her courage rose. She was a Pole, she had been trained in a hard school, she was not afraid. No, she repeated passionately to herself, she was not afraid; and how she hated that smooth-tongued German, with the cold eyes and smiling lips! Treacherous! Treacherous!