She paused, startled, for Rowland had released her suddenly, a warning finger at his lips. And then they heard clearly again a thin voice in the hallway below, a man's voice that they both knew--and the sound of footsteps upon the stairs.
The color had all gone from Zoya's cheeks and she stared helplessly at Rowland.
"Von Stromberg!" he whispered.
He snatched up his cap and vanished out of the window into the darkness upon the roof. Hurriedly he crawled up astride the peak of the dormer window where he lay forward listening.
A loud knock upon the door.
"Where is this sick lady?" said the voice. "I would like to see her----" A pause, and then, "Ah! And so it is you after all, Madame Rochal! This is most extraordinary--most extra-or-din-ary!" He caressed the words as if they were something good to the taste. "You have nothing to say. You are very pale. I have frightened you? I am sorry. Bitte, lie down again upon the bed from which you have arisen and be quite composed. I will not harm you. Why should I? Did you not vote for my wonderful resolution? Ach so!"
The tones of the voice were eloquent--cynical and soft by turns, and Rowland did not need to see the cadaverous, leering face, the air of sardonic condescension, the deep baleful eyes which glared and charmed by their very malignity.
"Ach, you are feeling better, nicht wahr? A swallow of water. So. We will now have a quiet amicable chat. Will you not ask me to sit down? Will you not ask after my wound? I have no wound," he laughed dryly. "Herr Rowland is a bad shot. Danke. But if there is one thing in the world that irks me, it is the climbing of stairs.... Now we will begin. Will you now have the kindness to tell me how you managed to come here...?"
A low murmur scarcely distinguishable in reply.
"Over the roofs? Wounded? There is some negligence here. My men searched." And then more quietly, "You were always resourceful--most resourceful, Madame. Wounded too. That is a pity. I trust not seriously.... That is good. It would be a pity.... Your beautiful neck, in a ball dress. But it is not possible that you could have accomplished this escape alone.... In the storm! ... a desperate venture...."