They obeyed, but returned as before. “Nitchivo, Comrade,” they said.
“Look behind the stove. There is a way and I will find it. What is hidden by that hanging curtain there?”
The younger policeman moved the curtain and disclosed the cupboard door.
“Ha, let us see,” exclaimed the agent, picking up the lamp, as he moved forward. He rummaged in the cupboard behind the clothes, found the shelves, and gave a cry of triumph. “Here is fresh candle-grease, and a trapdoor above — had we broken in two hours ago we should have caught them while they rested.” He set down the lamp and began to climb. His shoulders disappeared from view, then his body, and finally his legs.
No sound came from above. Marie Lou stood tense and silent — ever moment she expected to hear the crash of shots. The elder policeman stood in the bottom of the cupboard, peering up. “Are you all right, Comrade?” he called out at length.
“Come up,” said a muffled voice, in Russian. “Come up.”
The policeman followed his superior — again there was silence.
“I confess,” suddenly wailed Marie Lou. “I confess! It is my hidden store of grain that he has found — I meant no harm. Now they will send me to prison.”
“Little fool,” said the younger policeman. “I also will see this secret store.” He, in his turn, disappeared into the cupboard. The trapdoor slammed behind him and once more there was silence.
Marie Lou looked thoughtfully at the ceiling — nothing stirred. She looked at Rakov — he also was staring thoughtfully at the beams above his head.