, "that he is more frightened and
worried than he pretends to be. He is, after all, only a tricky and
ferrety Irish lawyer, who is afraid of every power outside his own little
circuit of experience. He's afraid of Italy. I suppose he has
nightmares about _brigantaggio_, even! He's afraid of foreigners--afraid
of this sort of conspiracy of silence that seems surrounding him. He's
even afraid to take his precious documents and put them in a safe-deposit
vault in any one of the regularly established institutions here in Genoa.
There are plenty of them, but he isn't big and bold enough to do his
business that way. He's been a fugitive so long his only way of warfare
now is flight. And besides, he can never forget that his work is
underground and illicit. That is why he carries his documents about with
him, on him, in his pockets, like a sneak thief with a pocketful of
stolen goods. I don't mean to say that he isn't smooth and crafty, and
that he won't fight like a rat when he's cornered! But I do believe that
if he and Penfield could get in touch today, here in Genoa, he would hand
over every dollar of those securities, and give up the job, and get back
to his familiar old lairs among the New York poolrooms and wardheelers
and petty criminals where he knows his enemies and his friends!"

Durkin strode toward the door impatiently. He hesitated for a moment,
but had already stretched out his hand to turn the key when he drew back,
silently, step by step.

For a second time, on the panel, without, the low knock was sounding.

Frank watched the closet door draw to and close on Durkin; then she
called out, with assumed and cheery unconcern, "Come in."

She did not look up for a moment, for she was still busy with her hair.

The door opened and closed.

"I trust I do not intrude?"

Frank's brush fell from her hand, before she even slowly wheeled and
looked, for it was the suave and well-modulated baritone of Pobloff.

"What does this mean?" she demanded vacantly, retreating before his
steady and scornful gaze.

"Simply, madam, that you and I seem seldom able to anticipate each
other's calls!"

She made a pretense of going to the electric signal.

"It is quite useless," explained the Russian quietly. "The wires are
disconnected."

He took out his watch and glanced at it. "Indeed, as a demonstration
that others enjoy privileges which you sometimes exert, in two minutes
every light in this room will be cut