She was a lithe, strong
woman, taller than he, or else she would have fallen. Instead, she
stood her ground, and he, failing to get a grasp at her wrist, stumbled
sideways against the table. In a moment she had run round it, and again
they stared at each other, without a word, across the table where Percy
Roden kept the books of the malgamite works.
A slow smile came to Von Holzen's face, which was colourless always,
and now a sort of grey. He turned on his heel, walked to the door, and,
locking it, slipped the key into his pocket. Then he returned to Mrs.
Vansittart. Neither spoke. No explanation was at that moment necessary.
He lifted the table bodily, and set it aside against the wall. Then he
went slowly towards her, holding out his hand for the unaddressed
envelope, which she held behind her back. He stood for a moment holding
out his hand while his strong will went out to meet hers. Then he
sprang at her again and seized her two wrists. The strength of his arms
was enormous, for he was a deep-chested man, and had been a gymnast.
The struggle was a short one, and Mrs. Vansittart dropped the envelope
helplessly from her paralyzed fingers. He picked it up.
"You are the wife of Karl Vansittart," he said in German.
"I am his widow," she replied; and her breath caught, for she was still
shaken by the physical and moral realization of her absolute
helplessness in his hands, and she saw in a flash of thought the
question in his mind as to whether he could afford to let her leave the
room alive.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213