[MaC] A pause in the music - Back in the lounge

[Mel Mason]

> > > When suddenly the music of the piano in Anton Barowenski's flat broke
> > > off abruptly.  A pause, and then Anton himself appeared at the service
> > > door of the flat.  No-one had ever seen him like this - white faced,
> > > shaking, his dark eyes wild.
> > >
> > > "Come," he said.  "You must come ..."  His eyes moved around the room,
> > > as though searching for someone.  And then suddenly, shockingly, he 
> > > sank
> > > to the ground, buried his face in his hands, and wept.
> > >
> > > "Come on," said Oswald briefly.
> > >
Marjorie hopped off her stool and rushed to Barowenski's side.  "Goodness! 
What's happened?" she asked the pianist, trying to gently get him to sit up 
by grasping his shoulders.

Nicola also hurried to Barowenski. "Oh, dear me," she
said. "Marjorie, darling, let's get him onto the
chaise." She hooked her arm under his other shoulder
and worked with Marjorie to get him onto the nearby
chaise lounge. "Mr. Barowenski, sir, you must stop
that," Nicola said. With her free hand, she attempted
to hand him what remained of her gin and tonic. "Have
a sip of this and try to get a hold of yourself! Now
tell us what's happened!"

James was third to the musician behind the ladies.

"Anton." he said, putting a full Polish pronunciation to his name with a
practiced ease.  "Easy, old boy.  Slowly, now."  He nodded as Nicola
tried to give Anton some of the gin.  "Take a sip, compose yourself."
>
> Marion Mauberly, who had been standing near the bar when the
> pianist emerged into the room, took one step, almost
> involuntarily, toward the distressed man.  As Marjorie and then
> Nicola and James descended on him, however, her reporter's
> instincts evidently took over.  Hurrying past the little group,
> she followed a little way behind Oswald and Pamela, through the
> service entrance into Anton's flat.

Hodges saw that the Pole was badly shaken.   He returned to the bar, poured 
a large snifter of brandy, and handed it to the man.  "Here you are sir, 
steady your nerves.  Sit down and recover your wits."

Anton, by now seated on on of the over-stuffed settees, accepted the brandy, 
shuddered, and then tossed off a good portion of it in a single gulp.

Then he spoke, low and fast - and in Polish.  "To byl okropne! Okropny! 
Gral fortepian.  Szukam - i zobacze jej.  I ona byl martwa! Martwy!"


(OOC - I suspect the translator is weak - anyone in the room who is able to 
speak Polish (and who I don't know about) should email me for a translation. 
As far as I know, two characters are Polish speaker ...)