“There is no reason why he should not. He is simply a menial; he is not a Russian; hence he is not under surveillance of the Red agents.”
“He might be approached by them,” observed Cranston casually. “I should think you would be suspicious of him.”
“Fritz is all right,” replied Prince Zuvor carelessly. “He is reliable. I watch him a bit — so does Ivan.
“I don’t think I shall keep him much longer — not more than a month. He has very little to do, and he is out much more often than he is in.”
IT was well after one o’clock when Cranston finally arose to say good night. Zuvor, suave and courteous, reminded him of the danger that lurked outside the house.
“Would you like to try my private exit?” he asked. “It is a way that never fails. I have used it on several occasions.”
Lamont Cranston expressed immediate interest.
“You mean the way by which the man you spoke of escaped?” he questioned. “You know the one I mean. Er — er — his name slips my mind.”
“Berchik?”
“Yes. Berchik.”