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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Secret City"

They
returned into the dining-room and there, looking very surprised, his
head very high above his collar was Markovitch.
"What does this mean?" he asked.
"I regret extremely," said the officer pompously. "I have been compelled
to make a search. Duty only... I regret. But no one is here. Your flat
is at liberty. I wish you good-afternoon."
Before Markovitch could ask further questions the room was emptied of
them all. They tramped out, laughing and joking, children again, the
hall door closed behind them.
Nina clutched Vera's arm.
"Vera.... Vera, where is he?"
"I don't know," said Vera.
"What's all this?" asked Nicholas.
They explained to him but he scarcely seemed to hear. He was
radiant--smiling in a kind of ecstasy.
"They have gone? I am safe?"
In the doorway was the little policeman, black with grime and dust, so
comical a figure that in reaction from the crisis of ten minutes before,
they laughed hysterically.
"Oh look! look!..." cried Nina. "How dirty he is!"
"Where have you been?" asked Vera. "Why weren't you in the cupboard?"
The little man's teeth were chattering, so that he could scarcely
speak.


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