mitted an assault, an aggravated assault, on an istvostchik and
evaded arrest. And he came this way."

"He is not here, though," replied Miss Pilgrim steadily. "Nobody at
all has been here this evening. I give you my word."

The Russian phrase she used was "chestnoe slovo," "upon my honorable
word." Waters caught his breath and listened anxiously.

"I give you my honorable word that he is not here," she affirmed
deliberately.

"Now what do you know about that?" exclaimed Waters helplessly.

From the rear of the room somebody piped up acutely: "Then why may
the policeman not look, since nobody is there?" Murmurs of agreement
supported the questioner.

Miss Pilgrim did not answer. It was to Waters as though she and the
policeman stood, estimating each other, measuring strength and
capacity. The policeman grunted.

"Well," he said, "since you say, upon your honorable word but I must
report the matter, you understand." He paused and there followed the
rustle of paper as he produced and opened his notebook.

"Your names?" he demanded.

"Certainly," agreed Miss Pilgrim, in a voice of extreme formality.
But she moved to the bedroom door and drew it conclusively shut
before she replied.

Waters drew deep breaths and shifted his weight from one foot to the
other. From the farther room he could hear now no more than confused
and inarticulate murmurings; but he was not curious about the rest.
He knew just what was going on the fatuous interrogatory as to name,
surname, age, birthplace, nationality, father, mother, trade, married
or single, civil status, and all the rest of the rigmarole involved
in every contact with the Russian police. He had seen it many times
and endured it himself often enough. Just now he had another matter
to think of.

"Honorable word!" he repeated. "It's a wonder she couldn't find
something different to say. Now I got to fool her. I got to, I."

The window showed him the pit of the courtyard; its frame was not yet
caulked with cotton-wool and sealed with brown paper for the winter.
He got it open and leaned out, feeling to either side for a spout, a
pipe, anything that would give him handhold to climb down by. There
was nothing of the kind; but directly below him he could make out the
mass of the great square stack of furnace-wood built against the
wall. From the sill to the top of the stack was a drop of full twenty
feet.

He measured it with his eyes as best he could in the darkness. It