In the Stronghold Nell waited for Denis. It was nine o'clock. She went into a front room and looked out into the street. She wondered vaguely why everything sounded so clear and loud; why the scent of a sandal-wood box was so sharp. She did not know that every nerve was on the stretch, that she was strung up till every sense was painfully acute. As she stood at the window she heard a hubbub of men's voices; the noise of many feet. They passed into the distance, across the top of Henley Road. She saw them in her mind—men being taken to the police station. She turned suddenly and ran into her bedroom. Sheila Pat was asleep. She seized a hat and coat, flung off her shoes, put on others, and crept down the stairs. Miss Kezia was not at home, but in the hall, just going out, Herr Schmidt stood drawing on his gloves.
"I haf to take a book to a friend," he said, his eyes questioning her surprisedly, as his tongue was too polite to do.
"Yes?" she said vaguely. She went to the door.
"Is your brozzer outside waiting for you, Fräulein?"
Up went Nell's head.
"No, Herr Schmidt."
He moved a step so that he blocked her way.
"He is coming down ze stairs?"
"No. I am going out alone. Please let me pass, Herr Schmidt!"
There was a little pause. Nell pulled restlessly at the throat of her coat.