The Russian tapped his cheek.

“So be it.  Let us proceed.”

The German seemed to pull himself together.  He indicated the place he had been occupying at the head of the table.  The Russian demurred, but the other insisted.

“It is the only possible place,” he said, “for—­Number One.  Perhaps Number Fourteen will shut the door?”

In another moment Tommy was once more confronting bare wooden panels, and the voices within had sunk once more to a mere undistinguishable murmur.  Tommy became restive.  The conversation he had overheard had stimulated his curiosity.  He felt that, by hook or by crook, he must hear more.

There was no sound from below, and it did not seem likely that the doorkeeper would come upstairs.  After listening intently for a minute or two, he put his head round the curtain.  The passage was deserted.  Tommy bent down and removed his shoes, then, leaving them behind the curtain, he walked gingerly out on his stockinged feet, and kneeling down by the closed door he laid his ear cautiously to the crack.  To his intense annoyance he could distinguish little more; just a chance word here and there if a voice was raised, which merely served to whet his curiosity still farther.

He eyed the handle of the door tentatively.  Could he turn it by degrees so gently and imperceptibly that those in the room would notice nothing?  He decided that with great care it could be done.  Very slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, he moved it round, holding his breath in his excessive care.  A little more—­a little more still—­would it never be finished?  Ah! at last it would turn no farther.

He stayed so for a minute or two, then drew a deep breath, and pressed it ever so slightly inward.  The door did not budge.  Tommy was annoyed.  If he had to use too much force, it would almost certainly creak.  He waited until the voices rose a little, then he tried again.  Still nothing happened.  He increased the pressure.  Had the beastly thing stuck?  Finally, in desperation, he pushed with all his might.  But the door remained firm, and at last the truth dawned upon him.  It was locked or bolted on the inside.

For a moment or two Tommy’s indignation got the better of him.

“Well, I’m damned!” he said.  “What a dirty trick!”

As his indignation cooled, he prepared to face the situation.  Clearly the first thing to be done was to restore the handle to its original position.  If he let it go suddenly, the men inside would be almost certain to notice it, so, with the same infinite pains, he reversed his former tactics.  All went well, and with a sigh of relief the young man rose to his feet.  There was a certain bulldog tenacity about Tommy that made him slow to admit defeat.  Checkmated for the moment, he was far from abandoning the conflict.  He still intended to hear what was going on in the locked room.  As one plan had failed, he must hunt about for another.