first into the cellar carrying rifles. One was young, dark and swarthy, wearing heavy corduroys and a gray sweater. The other man was Mrs. Pollifax’s age, broad and bulky-shouldered with curling ironic brows. He said sharply to her, “You are Mrs. Pollifax?”
“Thank God,” she gasped, suddenly weak.
“I’m Tsanko.”
“Tsanko,” she repeated numbly. “I’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t a wild goose chase after all, then–you really are Tsanko!”
“Da.”
He was kneeling beside the two men, searching them, and as he opened the wallet of Bemish’s companion he whistled. “This one is a member of the secret police.” He looked at Mrs. Pollifax questioningly and then his glance fell on Debby. “Your friend is still with gag,” he said. “You wish this?”
Mutely, Mrs. Pollifax shook her head. She tugged at Debby’s gag and at once the girl burst into tears. “I want to go home,” she cried indignantly. “I don’t like this country.Burglars, lousy brakes, Phil’s arrest, people rolling me into rugs and dropping me out of windows.” Her voice rose hysterically. “Are those two men
dead?
”
“Yes,” Tsanko said curtly, standing up, “and there is no time to bury them, we will have to use a little dynamite and bury the cellar instead. Kosta …” He turned and spoke to the young man in Bulgarian. Kosta nodded and climbed out of the cellar.
Debby said accusingly, “This man knows your name, I heard him!”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pollifax gently, “I came to Bulgaria to meet him. I do hope you’re not going to have hysterics, because we’re still in great danger.”
Debby stared at her and suddenly quieted. “No, I won’t have hysterics.
Why
did you come to Bulgaria to meet him, Mrs. Pollifax?”
“Later,” she told her.
They climbed together out of the crumbling cellar, bushes tearing at their faces, and after several minutes Tsanko followed and gestured them toward a hill some distance away. Here they waited in silence. Presently Kosta joined them, as well as a second young man, and as they walked over and down the hill Mrs. Pollifax heard the sound of a small, muffled explosion behind them, like very faint thunder.
Mr. Carleton Bemish had just been buried.
Requiescat in pace
, thought Mrs. Pollifax sadly.
13
“We are nearly there,” said Tsanko.
Ahead of them stood a wall silhouetted against the moonlit sky, a solitary, abandoned wall holding back a hill grown over with grass. “We go inside this hill,” he explained. “It hides a secret tunnel that once led to the fortress.”
Kosta leaned over, pulling aside bushes to reveal a gap in the huge stones along the base of the wall. One by one they crawled into a narrow earthen tunnel, made an abrupt turn and emerged into a cave. Mrs. Pollifax heard Tsanko striking matches and suddenly light flared from a lantern. They were in a large room laced with roots, its ceiling braced by ancient timbers.
“You have given us much trouble, Amerikanski,” Tsanko said, blowing out his match and turning up the wick of the lantern. Shaggy white brows completely shadowed his eyes. He looked tough, shrewd and weathered. Studying her face with equal frankness, he said, “Please–sit down, you are exhausted.” From a corner he brought her a three-legged stool. From his pocket he removed asmall vial, uncapped it and, leaning over the lantern, held it under her nose. “Smelling salts,” he explained. “No, please–you look very faint.”
“It’s been a long day,” confessed Mrs. Pollifax.
He carried the vial to Debby, the sharp smell of ammonia lingering behind him. He said dryly, “I believe this. I have observed you once in Sofia from a car. At that time the color of your face was surely five times brighter than at this minute.” He sat across from her and said bluntly, “On that occasion in Sofia I thought you a foolish American lady. Now I am not so sure. Do you know you have been followed by the secret police since the
“Thank God,” she gasped, suddenly weak.
“I’m Tsanko.”
“Tsanko,” she repeated numbly. “I’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t a wild goose chase after all, then–you really are Tsanko!”
“Da.”
He was kneeling beside the two men, searching them, and as he opened the wallet of Bemish’s companion he whistled. “This one is a member of the secret police.” He looked at Mrs. Pollifax questioningly and then his glance fell on Debby. “Your friend is still with gag,” he said. “You wish this?”
Mutely, Mrs. Pollifax shook her head. She tugged at Debby’s gag and at once the girl burst into tears. “I want to go home,” she cried indignantly. “I don’t like this country.Burglars, lousy brakes, Phil’s arrest, people rolling me into rugs and dropping me out of windows.” Her voice rose hysterically. “Are those two men
dead?
”
“Yes,” Tsanko said curtly, standing up, “and there is no time to bury them, we will have to use a little dynamite and bury the cellar instead. Kosta …” He turned and spoke to the young man in Bulgarian. Kosta nodded and climbed out of the cellar.
Debby said accusingly, “This man knows your name, I heard him!”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pollifax gently, “I came to Bulgaria to meet him. I do hope you’re not going to have hysterics, because we’re still in great danger.”
Debby stared at her and suddenly quieted. “No, I won’t have hysterics.
Why
did you come to Bulgaria to meet him, Mrs. Pollifax?”
“Later,” she told her.
They climbed together out of the crumbling cellar, bushes tearing at their faces, and after several minutes Tsanko followed and gestured them toward a hill some distance away. Here they waited in silence. Presently Kosta joined them, as well as a second young man, and as they walked over and down the hill Mrs. Pollifax heard the sound of a small, muffled explosion behind them, like very faint thunder.
Mr. Carleton Bemish had just been buried.
Requiescat in pace
, thought Mrs. Pollifax sadly.
13
“We are nearly there,” said Tsanko.
Ahead of them stood a wall silhouetted against the moonlit sky, a solitary, abandoned wall holding back a hill grown over with grass. “We go inside this hill,” he explained. “It hides a secret tunnel that once led to the fortress.”
Kosta leaned over, pulling aside bushes to reveal a gap in the huge stones along the base of the wall. One by one they crawled into a narrow earthen tunnel, made an abrupt turn and emerged into a cave. Mrs. Pollifax heard Tsanko striking matches and suddenly light flared from a lantern. They were in a large room laced with roots, its ceiling braced by ancient timbers.
“You have given us much trouble, Amerikanski,” Tsanko said, blowing out his match and turning up the wick of the lantern. Shaggy white brows completely shadowed his eyes. He looked tough, shrewd and weathered. Studying her face with equal frankness, he said, “Please–sit down, you are exhausted.” From a corner he brought her a three-legged stool. From his pocket he removed asmall vial, uncapped it and, leaning over the lantern, held it under her nose. “Smelling salts,” he explained. “No, please–you look very faint.”
“It’s been a long day,” confessed Mrs. Pollifax.
He carried the vial to Debby, the sharp smell of ammonia lingering behind him. He said dryly, “I believe this. I have observed you once in Sofia from a car. At that time the color of your face was surely five times brighter than at this minute.” He sat across from her and said bluntly, “On that occasion in Sofia I thought you a foolish American lady. Now I am not so sure. Do you know you have been followed by the secret police since the
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