"I'm sorry, mademoiselle," he said. "You're quite welcome to your low
opinion of me. But if anyone should ask me, I'd say that I don't
understand what is happening to us. And after a while I'll become
angry and go downstairs for information."
"They know nothing about you in the salle de jeu," she said, "but on
the floor below they're waiting to kill you."
Neeland, astonished, asked her whether the American gamblers in the
salon where Sengoun had been playing were ignorant of what was going
on in the house.
"What Americans?" she demanded, incredulously. "Do you mean
Weishelm?"
"Didn't you know there were Americans employed in the salle de jeu?"
asked Neeland, surprised.
"No. I have not been in this house for a year until I came tonight.
This place is maintained by the Turkish Government--" She flashed a
glance at Sengoun--"you're welcome to the information now," she
added contemptuously. And then, to Neeland: "There was, I believe,
some talk in New York about adding one or two Americans to the
personnel, but I opposed it."
"They're here," said Neeland drily.
"Do you know who they are?"
"Yes. There's a man called Doc Curfoot----"
"Who!!"
And suddenly, for the first time, Neeland remembered that she had been
the wife of one of the men below.
"Brandes and Stull are the others," he said mechanically.
The girl stared at him as though she did not comprehend, and she
passed one hand slowly across her forehead and eyes.
"Eddie Brandes? Here? And Stull? Curfoot? Here in this house!"
"In the salon below."
"They can't be!" she protested in an odd, colourless voice. "They
were bought soul and body by the British Secret Service!"
All three stood staring at one another; the girl flushed, clenched her
hand, then let it fall by her side as though utterly overcome.
"All this espionage!" cried Sengoun, furiously. "--It makes me sick, I
tell you! Where everybody betrays everybody is no place for a free
Cossack!----"
The terrible expression on the girl's face checked him; she said,
slowly: "It is we others who have been betrayed, it seems. It is we who are
trapped here. They've got us all--every one of us. Oh, my God!--every
one of us--at last!"
She lifted her haggard face and stared at the increasing light which
was turning the window panes a sickly yellow.