She made a little moüe at him and then obeyed with the deftness of one skilled in illusions.
"There, my great bear," she laughed. "And you'll wake me?"
"Yes. Now go and get your beauty sleep."
"And you? Shall you stay awake?"
"I sleep with one eye open--I can wake when I please. Borrow no trouble on that score."
She moved toward the house, whispering to him:
"Remain here. It will not do for us to be seen together. Au revoir." And blowing a kiss at him with her fingers, she floated away into the shadows.
Max Liederman was thorough. With characteristic prevision he had prepared all things, including a machine which was to be waiting at daylight outside the wall. Three o'clock found them at the iron door which led down into the passage. Liederman had been prepared to force this lock and to his amazement, and Zoya Rochal's, the key was in the door, which indeed was partly open.
Liederman stopped a moment to rock to and fro and gaze at the door in a puzzled way.
"Curious," he muttered, rubbing his head.