Another voice replied, and then questioned, for he heard Markov's reply.
"In here? What should anyone do in here?"
The other voice came nearer at the window-opening itself--a young voice, sharp, peremptory.
"What is this house?"
"A lodging house, Herr Lieutnant. You see--of the poorer class."
"Who keeps it?"
"Frau Nisko, Herr Lieutnant. It is number sixteen."
"No one entered by this window last night?"
"Last night! By this window!" in excellent bewilderment. "No, Herr Lieutnant. That would have been impossible. Besides, you may see for yourself--who would wish to enter here?"
"Someone may have passed through while you slept."