From the way the shadows flickered, she guessed that candles were being used to give the place “atmosphere.” From the position of these shadows on the floor, she guessed that the candles rested on a small table directly before the worthy ladies.
Little did she dream how these facts were to serve her later.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Brother Krosky beat on the table with his fist. “We have gathered here to discuss matters of grave importance.” A hush fell over the room. He rose heavily, crossed the floor unsteadily and closed and locked the outer door.
Joyce felt her heart sink. The trap was growing tighter.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began again, “on the twentieth of last month there left Moscow a very precious package. The Third International expected great things from this priceless package.”
A murmur, half assent, half admiration, followed.
“It arrived in New York. It left New York two days later. Sent by a trusted brother, it was insured for one thousand dollars.”
Once more a murmur.
Joyce was listening breathlessly. Her nerves were also at work. They reported that some moving object, like the priceless package, was making progress. Starting at her ankle, it had passed up to her knee, then to her thigh. It had made a successful passage over the rocky ridge that was her spinal column.
She had guessed what this creature was. All her life, from the time of faintest recollection, she had feared a mouse. Gangsters, thieves, hoodlums of all sorts, held no terror for her. But a mouse! The blood was frozen in her veins. She was a mummy indeed. But not quite.