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And beyond it was not the gloomily raftered feast-hall of a Nazi baron, with gray March outside its windows -- but a woodland rich with high summer. A breeze stole in from that preposterous outdoors and brought warmth and scent of firs, and of something else. Suddenly there was a crashing in the thicket, a thud of racing hooves. "A deer," said Manning stupidly. "Something must have scared it. " Dugan, sweating with his back to the door, relaxed slightly.
Like an echo from behind Manning came a dry cackle of laughter. He faced about again; his glare stilled even the Herr Doktor's hysterical glee.