“The raid, you mean? Oh, nothing⁠—it happens to us every now and then. The madame’s having some sort of time with the police; I don’t know what it is, but maybe they’ll come to terms before morning. Anyhow, they won’t do anything to you. They always let the men off.”

“Maybe so,” he responded, “but not me⁠—I’m afraid I’m in for it.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m wanted by the police,” he said, lowering his voice, though of course their conversation was in Lithuanian. “They’ll send me up for a year or two, I’m afraid.”

“Hell!” said Marija. “That’s too bad. I’ll see if I can’t get you off.”