There was a high-pitched sharp roof over the gable, which, as
the building stood alone fronting upon the synagogue, made it so
remarkable, that all who knew Prague well, knew the house in which the
Trendellsohns lived. Nina had often wished, as in latter days she had
entered it, that it was less remarkable, so that she might have gone in
and out with smaller risk of observation. It was now the beginning of
September, and the clocks of the town had just struck eight as Nina put
her hand on the lock of the Jew's door. As usual it was not bolted,
and she was able to enter without waiting in the street for a servant
to come to her. She went at once along the narrow passage and up the
gloomy wooden stairs, at the foot of which there hung a small lamp,
giving just light enough to expel the actual blackness of night. On the
first landing Nina knocked at a door, and was desired to enter by a
soft female voice. The only occupant of the room when she entered was a
dark-haired child, some twelve years old perhaps, but small in stature
and delicate, and, as appeared to the eye, almost wan.
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