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something that sounded like : ' One, two . . . Mercury in the second house .
. the moon waning . . . six-- accident . . . evening--seven . . . ' then
announced loudly and cheerfully : ' Your 'head will be cut off!'
Bezdomny turned to the stranger with a wild, furious stare and Berlioz
asked with a sardonic grin :
'By whom? Enemies? Foreign spies? '
'No,' replied their companion, ' by a Russian woman, a member of the
Komsomol.'
'Hm,' grunted Berlioz, upset by the foreigner's little joke. ' That,
if you don'c mind my saying so, is most improbable.'
'I beg your pardon,' replied the foreigner, ' but it is so. Oh yes, I
was going to ask you--what are you doing this evening, if it's not a secret?
'
'It's no secret. From here I'm going home, and then at ten o'clock
this evening there's a meeting at the massolit and I shall be in the chair.'
'No, that is absolutely impossible,' said the stranger firmly.
'Why?'
'Because,' replied the foreigner and frowned up at the sky where,
sensing the oncoming cool of the evening, the birds were flying to roost, '
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