was quite certain that this woman had a beautiful face—a dark Slavonic face with passionate eyes. She was recalled from her imaginings by the voice of the Russian, who seemed to act as master of ceremonies.
“Shall we get on with our business? First to our absent comrade! No. 2!”
He made a curious gesture with his hand towards the turned down chair next to the woman, which everyone present imitated, turning to the chair as they did so.
“I wish No. 2 were with us tonight,” he continued. “There are many things to be done. Unsuspected difficulties have arisen.”
“Have you had his report?” It was the American who spoke.
“As yet—I have nothing from him.” There was a pause. “I cannot understand it.”
“You think it may have—gone astray?”
“That is—a possibility.”
“In other words,” said five o’clock softly, “there is—danger.”
He spoke the word delicately—and yet with relish.
The Russian nodded emphatically.
“Yes—there’s danger. Too much is getting known about us—about this place. I know of several people who suspect.” He added coldly: “They must be silenced.”
Bundle felt a little cold shiver pass down her spine. If she were to be found, would she be silenced? She was recalled suddenly to attention by a word.
“So nothing has come to light about Chimneys?”