She supposed she was required to play "errand-boy" as usual, and to go
through the well-known routine: A crumpled-up slip of paper, which she
must hide in her hair or dress, a long walk, or a ride in the electric
tram if she happened to have any money, and then perhaps at the end of
it she would find the man for whom she was seeking absent, and then she
would have to wait till he returned. It was never safe to leave a
message. Everything had to be given directly into the hands of those
for whom it was intended, and she had spent many weary hours in the
rooms of Sobrenski's followers.
She studied his face as he rapidly stamped his letters, flinging them
on to a pile of others that lay ready. It crossed her mind how Emile
had once likened a certain group of the conspirators to a pack of court
cards, saying that they were alternately red and black.
Sobrenski's hair and small peaked beard were of a curiously unpleasant
colour, and his thin lips, pointed teeth and long sloping jaw gave him
a wolfish appearance. His eyes, deep-set and narrow, were too close
together to satisfy a student of Lavater as to his capacity for
truthfulness.
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