“To what am I indebted for Monsieur’s very polite attentions?” he demanded bluntly.
The stranger shrugged his shoulders insolently.
“Langengrad at night is not too healthy for foreigners,” he replied with an obvious sneer, “and of course we feel responsible for—”
He got no further. Dick’s clenched fist jerked upward with every ounce of his strength and skill behind it. Taken utterly by surprise the police agent was caught squarely on the point of the jaw and went down like a log.
Dick tapped at the door, which was instantly opened by Fédor, and together they dragged the unconscious officer inside. A moment later he was securely bound, gagged and blindfolded.
Dick was now thoroughly alarmed about Yvette. Would she be followed, and if so, could she win clear?
Here fortune favoured them. Apparently the police official, whatever his suspicions were, had meant to make sure of Dick, knowing that Yvette alone could not escape him. A few minutes later they heard her knock, and soon all three were in the house.
“Safe enough now,” said Fédor laconically as he led the way through piles of stored goods to an upper room at the top of the building.
The room was faintly illuminated by a gleam of moonlight which came through a skylight in the roof, and when a small lamp was turned on Dick looked around him with keen interest. Filthily dirty, and apparently unused for years, the room was crammed with a heterogeneous mass of canvas packages and wooden boxes. The only window was covered with shutters through which circular holes had been bored to admit light, but these were covered over with flaps of felt. The dust of years lay thick everywhere.
Dick’s attention was instantly centred on a large, square table in the middle of the room.