"But the Herr Professor is in the
factory," he said. "It is mixing-day to-day. I will, however, fetch
him."
Mrs. Vansittart walked slowly towards the office where Roden had told
her that the safe stood wherein the prescription and other papers were
secured. She knew it was mixing-day and that Von Holzen would be in the
factory. She had sent Roden on a fool's errand to Park Straat to await
her return there. Was she going to succeed? Would she be left alone for
a few moments in that little office with the safe? She fingered the key
in her pocket--a duplicate obtained at some risk, with infinite
difficulty, by the simple stratagem of borrowing Roden's keys to open
an old and disused desk one evening in Park Straat. She had conceived
the plan herself, had carried it out herself, as all must who wish to
succeed in a human design. She was quite aware that the plan was crude
and almost childish, but the gain was great, and it is often the
simplest means that succeed. The secret of the manufacture of
malgamite--written in black and white--might prove to be Von Holzen's
death-warrant. Mrs. Vansittart had to fight in her own way or not fight
at all. She could not understand the slower, surer methods of Mr. Wade
and Cornish, who appeared to be waiting and wasting time.
The German doorkeeper accompanied her to the office, and opened the
door after knocking and receiving no answer.
"Will the high-born take a seat?" he said; "I shall not be long.
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