第1部分(第2/8 頁)

n　Empire　where　rats　ruled；　he　was　the　king　of　the　rats。

Even　now；　an　Embassy　awaited　his　return。　But　he　had　business　to　do　first　…　business　of　which　the　Embassy　was　not　officially　cognizant。　His　face　gleamed　white　and　sharp　in　the　moonlight。　There　was　the　least　hint　of　a　curve　in　the　thin　nose。　His　father　had　been　a　Polish　Jew；　a　journeyman　tailor。　It　was　business　such　as　his　father　would　have　loved　that　took　him　abroad　tonight。

He　came　to　the　Seine；　crossed　it；　and　entered　one　of　the　less　reputable　quarters　of　Paris。　Here　he　stopped　before　a　tall；　dilapidated　house　and　made　his　way　up　to　an　apartment　on　the　fourth　floor。　He　had　barely　time　to　knock　before　the　door　was　opened　by　a　woman　who　had　evidently　been　awaiting　his　arrival。　She　gave　him　no　greeting；　but　helped　him　off　with　his　overcoat　and　then　led　the　way　into　the　tawdrily　furnished　sitting…room。

The　electric　light　was　shaded　with　dirty　pink　festoons；　and　it　softened；　but　could　not　disguise　the　girl's　face　with　its　mask　of　crude　paint。　Could　not　disguise；　either；　the　broad　Mongolian　cast　of　her　countenance。

There　was　no　doubt　of　Olga　Demiroff's　profession；　nor　of　her　nationality。

〃All　is　well；　little　one？〃

〃All　is　well；　Boris　Ivanovitch。〃

He　nodded　murmuring：　〃I　do　not　think　I　have　been　followed。〃

But　there　was　anxiety　in　his　tone。　He　went　to　the　window；　drawing　the　curtains　aside　slightly；　and　peering　carefully　out。　He　started　away　violently。

〃There　are　t