“I will see her in a few moments,” he announced abruptly. “Give her that message, Ivan, and bid her wait in the hall.”
As Ivan went back to the front room, Sandoff closed the door and turned to Poussin.
“You must excuse me for a moment,” he said. “Some one is waiting for a private interview with me. I am going to put you in here,” leading the way to the rear apartment, “and as my agent Zamosc will be with you, I must caution you to be silent and to make no reply to any questions he may ask you,” for it was Sandoff’s custom to permit the identity of informers to be known to none but himself. “I know better than to open my lips,” returned the fellow shrewdly, and the reply thoroughly satisfied Sandoff. He left his companion and passed through to the outer room. Zamosc was sitting there by the desk, perusing a newspaper.
“I must ask you to retire to the rear room for a little while,” said Sandoff hurriedly. “You heard Ivan state that a lady wishes to see me. I think I know what she wants. It is some personal affair that should have been arranged at my house, but since she is here I may as well see her.”
“Don’t apologize, I beg of you,” replied Zamosc. He walked quietly back and entered the rear room, where Poussin was already seated.
Sandoff followed him, and then returned to the front apartment, closing both doors. He walked to the hall door and threw it open. “You may come in,” he said. “I am at leisure now.”
With a soft rustling of skirts a woman entered. She glided to the center of the room without a word, and quickly removed her cloak and veil.
Sandoff was thrilled with amazement and admiration. His eyes were riveted upon the slender figure standing opposite him—so close that he could have touched her by extending his hand. He had seen many beautiful women in his time, but never one to match this young girl—for she was scarcely more than twenty. Her hair was of a rich golden brown, her eyes gleamed with a slightly darker shade of the same color, from beneath long drooping lashes; her cheeks were faintly tinged with a hue like the early bloom of a peach, and the ivory whiteness of her neck and throat was only equaled by the pearly rows of teeth that showed through her parted lips as she breathed quickly and deeply. She wore a close fitting dress, made of dark material and richly trimmed with sable fur.
The two stood in silence for a moment, and then, meeting Sandoff’s eye, the girl blushed.
“You don’t know me?” she said abruptly. “Do you remember the night of the 30th of December, one year ago——”