"Yes, I can understand—" Romney whispered. "Where is Moira Kelvin?"
The Hunchback pointed forward toward the apartment where Romney had seen her in the yellow lamplight.
"You think there is danger, and you sit talking with me?"
"She sleeps. She knows nothing of these things. She sat and read to me all night.... She is young. She is so beautiful. I put her to sleep against her will.... You will see her to a ship. You will tell her that I had but one thought—that all dreams were merged into one—that I sat at the last contemplating her beauty and the tenderness—"
The tea was served before them. The Hunchback thanked the servant and bade him go. Romney absently reached for his teacup, but Nifton Bend's hand touched his:
"Don't drink that. My passage out is doubtless in it, if not yours. I don't think they want you particularly, though they would, if they understood.... Ah no, they have doubtless murdered my servant. No one but his master sends him on an errand into the street—"
Now the pinkish storks of the portieres had real moisture about their lower joints, a faint but veritable mist rising before them. Smoothly Nifton Bend had allowed the steaming contents of his cup to soak into the wall-hangings behind his chair. He did the same with Romney's cup. The fabric slowly sucked in the liquid.... The thrall of the great man deepened in Romney's heart. His own romance was near and vibrant in the room; yet he was touched by a dread which the other did not share, apparently had not thought of.... Was Moira Kelvin safely sleeping after her night of devotion to the sleepless one?
"Is it the Japanese secret agents that became active last night at the Nestor and here?" Romney asked quickly.
"No. Our work never appeared to get to them—thanks to your part with the little old spy whom you liked so well. It is China punishing the younger generation."
"But did he not work in the laboratory—that same spy? I saw him coming up from there—a trap-door—"