One or two of our men had
already found the place and were lying on the rug. In one corner was a
large baking oven like a beehive, half in one and half in the room next
door. A wide shelf ran from the beehive almost to the open door. There
were two small windows, each about the size of this book wide open. Jan
and Jo sniffed. Where had they smelt that odour before?
An old woman in Albanian costume crept up to Jo and caught her by the
skirt.
"See," she said, dragging her into the next room, "here is a fine bed.
The ladies will sleep with me this night."
Jo looked at the old lady's greasy hair and filthy raiment.
"We always sleep with our own people," she said firmly.
The old lady protested. All the while our men were packing the baggage
beneath the shelf. It was a tight fit, but at last it was got in.
The professor entered once more on the scene.
"This house will do very well for the common people," he said, "but the
Herr Commandant" (meaning Jan) "and the two ladies will come over to
sleep with me.
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