“What are we going to do?”
“We can only wait!”
“They’ll never dare to search your room, Vera.”
“One doesn’t know now... everything’s so different.”
“Vera, you are brave. Forgive me what I said just now.... I’ll help you if you want—”
“Hush, Nina dear. Not that now. We’ve got to think—what’s best....”
They kissed very quietly, and then they sat down by the table and waited. There was simply nothing else to do.
Vera said that, during that pause, she could see the little policeman everywhere. In every part of the room she found him, with his fat legs and dirty, streaky face and open collar. The flat was heavy, portentous with his presence, as though it stood with a self-important finger on its lips saying, “I’ve got a secret in here. Such a secret. You don’t know what I’ve got....”
They discussed in whispers as to who would come in first. Nicholas or Uncle Ivan or Bohun or Sacha? And supposing one of them came in while the soldiers were there? Who would be the most dangerous? Sacha? She would scream and give everything away. Suppose they had seen him enter and were simply waiting, on the cat-and-mouse plan, to catch him? That was an intolerable thought.
“I think,” said Nina, “I must go and see whether there’s any one outside.”