And yet, had he but known it, that was very nearly what had happened. When Mattina, worn out with crying, had sunk down on the floor against the door, sobbing out every now and then, “My mother, my manitsa,” she suddenly heard a very low muffled knocking which seemed to come from the other side of the room. At first she took no heed. It was someone, she supposed, in the next house; she had often heard people moving there. But it came again, a soft little knock repeated twice; then her name just whispered.
“Mattina! Mattina! Are you there?”
The voice was Kyra Polyxene’s, she was quite sure, but from where did it come? She crossed the little room. The knock was quite clear now.
“Mattina!”
“But where are you, Kyra Polyxene?”
“Now you will see; can you hear what I say?”
“Yes, I hear you.”
“Move your mattress!”
“What did you say?”
“I dare not speak any louder; move your mattress away from the wall!”