"You see," whispered the sergeant to his subordinate. "We were told his wife was living here with him, as well as an elderly lady--the aunt. He's the gent we want, and no mistake."
"I shall only be away for a little while, cara mia," said Karovsky, as he drew Clara to him. For a moment her head rested against his shoulder, then his lips lightly touched her forehead.
She turned from him, and sinking on a couch, buried her face in her hands.
Karovsky drew himself up to his full height "Now, sir, I am at your service," he said to the sergeant.
A moment later, and the three women were left alone.
"They be clever uns, they be!" said Margery with a chuckle as the sound of the retreating footsteps died away.
"How noble, how magnanimous of Monsieur Karovsky!" exclaimed Miss Primby. "I shall never think ill of the Russians again."
"Now is the opportunity for Gerald to get away," said Clara. "The police may discover their mistake at any moment." Her hand was on the door, when suddenly there was a sound which caused all three to start and stare at each other with eyes full of terror. It was the sound of unfamiliar footsteps ascending the stairs. Mrs. Brooke shrank back as the door opened and George Crofton entered the room. "You!" she gasped.
"Even so," he answered as he glanced round the room. "It is long since we met last."
"Not since the day you crushed my husband's portrait under your heel."