its harsh ring in the hall.
“For me, I expect,” Stevens said quietly. There was a new tension in the room as he left. The faces were openly anxious now. The smiles and friendly talk of the last hours seemed veryfar away.
When the American came back, he was grim. “Got to leave now. Emergency.”
Korytowski was hurrying with him towards the door. But Mr. Olszak had taken Russell Stevens by the arm—a strong, polite grasp it would be, Sheila thought—and that way, they entered the hall together. She heard their voices. Mr. Olszak was being firm. The American was being firm, too.
“I’ll lay my bet on Mr. Olszak,” Sheila said to herself wryly. What was the argument about, anyway? If she suffered from too many guesses, then Mr. Olszak certainly enjoyed too many ideas. He was serene when he returned to the room, but you couldn’t tell anything from that. The outside door, banging abruptly, told Sheila much more.
“I think you would be wise to go to bed,” Mr. Olszak was saying quietly. “The dawn is already here, you know. Soon it will be morning.”
Sheila moved towards the hall. Her head was heavy, her eyes felt as if two pennies were laid on them. She began to notice each time she swallowed. Bed would be not only wise, but infinitely pleasant. I’m going to catch a cold, she thought miserably.
The man whose shoulders were bent over the radio suddenly stiffened. He held up one hand. His head was thrown back, his eyes were white circles. The announcer’s voice cut through the sudden silence of the room.
It had come.
“ Less than an hour ago, German planes bombed Polish territory. Without any declaration of war... ”
It had come.
7
SURVEILLANCE
In the dark street, the unobtrusive man paced slowly under the chestnut trees. Twice he halted at the gate and peered into the gloomy cavern of faint light. The third time he approached the iron gateway, Henryk came limping forward.
“Well?” he said, with a truculence that usually disposed of unnecessary visitors.
“Cold night,” the man said, and buried his neck further into the shelter of his upturned collar. “Should have brought my coat.”
“Get a move on there. Or I’ll call the police.”
The man shrugged his shoulders, lifted a hand out of his pocket to turn the palm towards the porter. A metal disk gleamed there for a moment in the blue light. “No need,” he said, and slipped his hand deep into his pocket once more.
Henryk lost his truculence. He dropped his voice and added a smile. “You got business here?”
“Yes. This the only entrance? No others?”
“No... Who is it?”
The man shivered slightly. “I wish to heaven this sudden wind would bring some rain. We could do with some rain. They tell me the roads are baked dry.”
“It’s warmer in here,” Henryk suggested. “You can sit in the doorway. Less of a draught there, and you can see everyone going or coming. People are moving about tonight. Can’t settle.” He swung the gate, and the man entered.
From the porter’s apartment came a rhythmic snoring. “The wife,” Henryk explained. He lowered the volume of the small radio beside his chair. “I was having some tea. I’ll get you a glass. Aye, there’s been a lot of traffic in and out here, tonight. I’ve got to stay up until it stops. Why they can’t stay in their beds at this hour is something I’ll never figure out.”
“Wish I could be in mine. You and I appreciate our beds, and that’s why we’ve both got jobs that keep us out of them.” Henryk laughed and limped into the kitchen for more tea. “Someone been breaking the law?” be asked jokingly when he returned with an extra chair as well. The two men settled themselves comfortably in the little cubicle of a doorway, and stared out into the gloomy vault of the entranceway as they sipped the tea.
“Someone I’ve just got to keep an eye on,” the visitor said. Henryk’s small, deep-set eyes studied the simple face beside him. “We are all
“For me, I expect,” Stevens said quietly. There was a new tension in the room as he left. The faces were openly anxious now. The smiles and friendly talk of the last hours seemed veryfar away.
When the American came back, he was grim. “Got to leave now. Emergency.”
Korytowski was hurrying with him towards the door. But Mr. Olszak had taken Russell Stevens by the arm—a strong, polite grasp it would be, Sheila thought—and that way, they entered the hall together. She heard their voices. Mr. Olszak was being firm. The American was being firm, too.
“I’ll lay my bet on Mr. Olszak,” Sheila said to herself wryly. What was the argument about, anyway? If she suffered from too many guesses, then Mr. Olszak certainly enjoyed too many ideas. He was serene when he returned to the room, but you couldn’t tell anything from that. The outside door, banging abruptly, told Sheila much more.
“I think you would be wise to go to bed,” Mr. Olszak was saying quietly. “The dawn is already here, you know. Soon it will be morning.”
Sheila moved towards the hall. Her head was heavy, her eyes felt as if two pennies were laid on them. She began to notice each time she swallowed. Bed would be not only wise, but infinitely pleasant. I’m going to catch a cold, she thought miserably.
The man whose shoulders were bent over the radio suddenly stiffened. He held up one hand. His head was thrown back, his eyes were white circles. The announcer’s voice cut through the sudden silence of the room.
It had come.
“ Less than an hour ago, German planes bombed Polish territory. Without any declaration of war... ”
It had come.
7
SURVEILLANCE
In the dark street, the unobtrusive man paced slowly under the chestnut trees. Twice he halted at the gate and peered into the gloomy cavern of faint light. The third time he approached the iron gateway, Henryk came limping forward.
“Well?” he said, with a truculence that usually disposed of unnecessary visitors.
“Cold night,” the man said, and buried his neck further into the shelter of his upturned collar. “Should have brought my coat.”
“Get a move on there. Or I’ll call the police.”
The man shrugged his shoulders, lifted a hand out of his pocket to turn the palm towards the porter. A metal disk gleamed there for a moment in the blue light. “No need,” he said, and slipped his hand deep into his pocket once more.
Henryk lost his truculence. He dropped his voice and added a smile. “You got business here?”
“Yes. This the only entrance? No others?”
“No... Who is it?”
The man shivered slightly. “I wish to heaven this sudden wind would bring some rain. We could do with some rain. They tell me the roads are baked dry.”
“It’s warmer in here,” Henryk suggested. “You can sit in the doorway. Less of a draught there, and you can see everyone going or coming. People are moving about tonight. Can’t settle.” He swung the gate, and the man entered.
From the porter’s apartment came a rhythmic snoring. “The wife,” Henryk explained. He lowered the volume of the small radio beside his chair. “I was having some tea. I’ll get you a glass. Aye, there’s been a lot of traffic in and out here, tonight. I’ve got to stay up until it stops. Why they can’t stay in their beds at this hour is something I’ll never figure out.”
“Wish I could be in mine. You and I appreciate our beds, and that’s why we’ve both got jobs that keep us out of them.” Henryk laughed and limped into the kitchen for more tea. “Someone been breaking the law?” be asked jokingly when he returned with an extra chair as well. The two men settled themselves comfortably in the little cubicle of a doorway, and stared out into the gloomy vault of the entranceway as they sipped the tea.
“Someone I’ve just got to keep an eye on,” the visitor said. Henryk’s small, deep-set eyes studied the simple face beside him. “We are all
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