'It is locked. I don't do work of this sort with unlocked doors.'
Litvinoff glanced at the manuscript on the oak writing-table.
'We must collect all this and burn it, though I don't think we could be deeper damned than we are, even if we left it alone.'
'But where have you come from?' asked Percival, laying his hand on the other's shoulder. 'You're wet through. Have a drink,' and he poured out a tumbler of the Burgundy.
Litvinoff took it, and as he set down the glass replied, 'I fell into some water. There was snow enough to hide the ice.'
'Well, then, the very first thing is to change your clothes. Shall I get you dry ones, or will you go?'
'No, no; neither of us must leave this room. There may be a traitor in the house for aught I know. No one saw me come in. I shall do well enough.'
'You may as well be executed at once as be frozen to death in the course of the night. You must make shift with some of my things. You change while I see to the papers. We can talk while you're changing.'
Each went deftly and swiftly about what he had to do, and neither seemed to be in the least thrown off his balance. There was much less fuss than there is in some families every morning when the 'City man' is hurrying to catch his train. Drawer after drawer was emptied out on the wide hearthstones, and as stern denunciations of tyranny and eloquent appeals to the spirit of freedom vanished in smoke and sparks up the great chimney, Percival, a little puffed by his exertions, asked, 'How soon must we go? What's the exact state of things?'