It was utterly dark inside; not a vestige of light penetrated the inky blackness. De Richleau’s torch shot out a beam of light, it rested for a moment on the ceiling and travelled quickly along the cornice. The room was long and lofty — traces of a handsome moulding still remained, but the plaster hung in strips, and in places had altogether disappeared.
With a jerk the Duke lowered the beam to the skirting, and ran it round the edge of the wall. It had not moved more than two yards when it disclosed a large pair of field boots — instantly the light went out.
Simon felt the Duke push him violently in the direction of the window, but it was too late — a dozen torches flashed into their dazzled eyes — they were surrounded.
A group of silent men, each holding an automatic, stood before them.
“Good evening, Mr. Aron,” said a quiet, sneering voice. “Welcome to Romanovsk. We have been expecting you and your friend for some little time!”
In the glare of the torches Simon saw the big red head and white, evil face of Kommissar Leshkin.
XVI — The Dark Château
Leshkin rapped out an order in Russian; Simon and the Duke were gripped by the arms and led out of the room, across the echoing flagstones of a great central hall — roofless and open to the night sky. In the faint starlight they could see the broken balustrade of the grand staircase leading up to — nothing. At the far side of the hall they were led into the pitch darkness of a narrow passage and into a small room at the end.
Two lanterns were lit, and they saw it was furnished only with a trestle table and a few soap-boxes. Leshkin sat down heavily at the far side of the table and gave another brief order. The guards ran their hands over the prisoners, but the only weapon they found was the long, slender stiletto with which De Richleau had killed the spy at Sverdlovsk.
Leshkin motioned to the guards and they left the room, with the exception of one huge Mongolian, who leant against the wall behind the prisoners. Simon caught a glimpse of his face in the lamplight, he had the stupid, bestial features of a cretin — a hare-lip showed his broken, yellow teeth.