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Chapter 1
THE MAN WITH THE WHITE HAIR
It was close on midnight when a man crossed the Place de la Concorde。 In spite of the handsome fur coat which garbed his meagre form; there was something essentially weak and paltry about him。
A little man with a face like a rat。 A man; one would say; who could never play a conspicuous part; or rise to prominence in any sphere。 And yet; in leaping to such a conclusion; an onlooker would have been wrong。 For this man; negligible and inconspicuous as he seemed; played a prominent part in the destiny of the world。 In an Empire where rats ruled; he was the king of the rats。
Even now; an Embassy awaited his return。 But he had business to do first … business of which the Embassy was not officially cognizant。 His face gleamed white and sharp in the moonlight。 There was the least hint of a curve in the thin nose。 His father had been a Polish Jew; a journeyman tailor。 It was business such as his father would have loved that took him abroad tonight。
He came to the Seine; crossed it; and entered one of the less reputable quarters of Paris。 Here he stopped before a tall; dilapidated house and made his way up to an apartment on the fourth floor。 He had barely time to knock before the door was opened by a woman who had evidently been awaiting his arrival。 She gave him no greeting; but helped him off with his overcoat and then led the way into the tawdrily furnished sitting…room。
The electric light was shaded with dirty pink festoons; and it softened; but could not disguise the girls face with its mask of crude paint。 Could not disguise; either; the broad Mongolian cast of her countenance。
There was no doubt of Olga Demiroffs profession; nor of her nationality。
〃All is well; little one?〃
〃All is well; Boris Ivanovitch。〃
He nodded murmuring: 〃I do not think I have been followed。〃
But there was anxiety in his tone。 He went to the window; drawing the curtains aside slightly; and peering carefully out。 He started away violently。
〃There are two men … on the opposite pavement。 It looks to me …〃 He broke off and began gnawing at his nails … a habit he had when anxious。
The Russian girl was shaking her head with a slow; reassuring action。
〃They were here before you came。〃
〃All the same; it looks to me as though they were watching this house。〃
〃Possibly;〃 she admitted indifferently。
〃But then …〃
〃What of it? Even if they know … it will not be you they will follow from here。〃 A thin; cruel smile came to his lips。