The Mission of Poubalov — page 193: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AT ONE O’CLOCK A. M. 189 was half-past ten. He then sat with his head against the door that he might hear the slightest sound from the front room. Just what possessed Paul to be so vigilant on this occa- sion, when the spy was doing absolutely nothing but cudgel his inscrutable mind, he could not have told in less vague terms than that he didn’t want Poubalov to get away from him. If he were to take a nocturnal, or early morning ramble, Paul purposed to be on hand to ac- company him. Something like a half hour passed, and then Paul heard a long, heavy sigh, and the creak of the rocker as Poubaloy rose. Quickly mounting his perch, Paul saw him pace back and forth, his hands clinched behind him and his brow set in hard wrinkles. He seemed to be in for a night of it, and as his movement promised to be pro- ductive of nothing more than his quiescence, Paul again dismounted and sat down. So monotonously did the march continue that the listener’s head began to droop, lulled by the very sound he had set himself to hear, and had it not been for the extreme anxiety with which he had undertaken his task, Paul would have fallen asleep. After twice catching himself nodding, he no longer dared to sit still. So he rose and stepped lightly about the room to start the blood in his drowsy limbs. The sound of marching ceased. Poubalov had stopped under the chandelier, and when Paul had him in view he was in the act of turning Clara’s photograph face down upon the table. He took out the leather pocketbook that had checked the dagger thrust by Litizki’s hand, and ex- amined one of the documents in if attentively. It appeared to be of an official character, for there was a big seal upon it. and it was bound with ribbon. Paul could see the holes made by the dagger in passing through the several folds of the paper, or parchment. Poubalov laid the document upon the table, sat down, and, drawing fresh paper before him, began to write. His pen traversed the sheets with great rapidity, and as |