Harmony was frightened, stricken. She
collapsed in a heap on the floor of her room, her fingers in her
ears. But she need not have feared. The little Georgiev made no
protest, submitted to the inevitable like a gentleman and a
soldier, went out of her life, indeed, as unobtrusively as he had
entered it.
The carrier pigeon preened itself comfortably on the edge of the
washstand. Harmony ceased her hysterical crying at last and
pondered what was best to do. Monia was still breakfasting so
incredibly brief are great moments. After a little thought
Harmony wrote a tiny message, English, German, and French, and
inclosed it in the brass tube.
"The Herr Georgiev has been arrested," she wrote. An hour later
the carrier rose lazily from the window-sill, flapped its way
over the church roof and disappeared, like Georgiev, out of her
life. Grim-visaged war had touched her and passed on.
The incident was not entirely closed, however. A search of the
building followed the capture of the little spy. Protesting
tenants were turned out, beds were dismantled, closets searched,
walls sounded for hidden hollows. In one room on Harmony's floor
was found stored a quantity of ammunition.
It was when the three men who had conducted the search had
finished, when the boxes of ammunition had been gathered in the
hall, and the chattering sewing-girls had gone back to work, that
Harmony, on her way to her dismantled room, passed through the
upper passage.
Pages:
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281