ir predecessors on the brazen tray provided for the purpose. At such
times Sturm would bend lower over his work. But Victor was well able to
guess what resentment glimmered in the eyes so studiously averted; and his
cold, sardonic smile more than once commented, unknown to Sturm, upon the
accuracy with which he read the mean workings of his "secretary's" mind.

The buzz of a muted bell presently interrupted the even tenor of their
industry, causing Sturm to start sharply, drop his pen, and slue round in
his chair, turning to Victor a livid face in which his dark eyes of a
fanatic were live embers of excitement.

Without a sign to show he shared or even was aware of Sturm's emotion,
Victor deliberately fished from beneath the table a telephone instrument,
unhooked the receiver, and pronounced a conventional phrase of greeting. To
this he added a short "Yes," and after listening quietly for some seconds,
"Very good--in twenty minutes, then." Wasting no more time on the author
of the call, he hung up, returned the telephone to its place of
concealment, and helped himself to a cigarette before deigning to
acknowledge Sturm's persistent stare.

Then, elevating his eyebrows in mild impatience, he made the laconic
announcement:

"Eleven."

Sturm's mouth twitched nervously, his eyes burned with a keener fire.

"Coming here? To-night?"

"Yes."

"Then"--a gaunt hand described a gesture of agitation--"the hour strikes!"

Victor looked bored.

"Who knows?" he replied, as who should say: "Does it matter?"

"But--Gott in Himmel--!"

"Sturm," Victor interposed, critically, "if you Bolsheviki were a trifle
more consistent, one might repose greater faith in your sincerity. But when
one hears you deny the Deity in one breath and call on him by name in the
next--!"

"A mere mode of speech," Sturm muttered.

"If you must invoke a spiritual patron, why not Satan? Or don't you believe
in the Powers of Darkness, either?"

"I believe in you."

"As temporal viceroy of Lucifer? Many thanks! But you were about to say--?"

"Nothing. That is--I was envying your poise, Excellency. You take things
so coolly."

"Why not?"

"With Eleven coming here to tell us when we are to strike?"

"Why not?" Victor repeated. "We are prepared to strike at any hour. What
matters whether to-night or a week from to-night--since we cannot fail?"

"If that were only certain!"

"It rests with you."

"That's just it," Sturm doubted moodily. "Su