Then Prilukoff pushed me from him and the fingers of his right hand moved. I heard a slight clicking sound. I threw myself forward.
“I swear it—”
And I swore it on the life of Tioka.
Prilukoff's hand dropped to his side; he seemed to reel slightly, and staggering backwards leaned against the foot of my bed.
Naumoff on the other side of the door was growing impatient. He shook the handle.
I bent over to Prilukoff. “Are you going to betray me? If I open this door, will you show yourself?”
He laughed derisively. “Go along, go along,” he muttered. And I opened the door.
“Why did you run away?” asked Naumoff, taking my hand.
I closed the door behind me. I felt no more fear of Prilukoff. I felt no more fear of any one or anything. My heart seemed turned to stone. And as I stood thus, some one else knocked at the outside door. It was Kamarowsky.
And the door was not locked! I turned quickly and blew out the lamp.