'Damn principles!' Litvinoff cried, turning round, stung by the tone. 'I would have sacrificed them for a woman I merely admired, and they sha'n't stand between me and the woman I love.'
'How do you propose to find her?'
'I haven't the slightest idea. Do you know where she is?' he added sharply.
'Do you remember giving £10 to a man named Hirsch in the autumn?' was the counter-question.
'I do?' with an inquiring look.
'That was for your wife!'
Litvinoff drew a long breath. 'Go on!' he said, simply.
Then Petrovitch told him all that he knew of Alice, and Litvinoff listened intently. When Petrovitch spoke of the night on Blackfriars' Bridge, he leaned forward breathing heavily, then rose suddenly, and, crossing to a couch, flung himself, face downwards, on it. Petrovitch paused.
'Go on! Go on! Go on!' said an impatient, stifled voice from the couch.