"You can ask M. Tueski," I returned.
He fixed his eyes steadily on me while I could have counted twenty, and then said slowly and with deep emphasis:—
"M. Tueski is dead."
"Dead!" I repeated in the profoundest surprise.
"Murdered. Found this morning in the lower part of his own house with a dagger thrust through his heart."
"Murdered?" I could scarcely believe my ears.
"Yes. 'For Freedom's sake'," said the man with a curl of the lip. "At least, so a message on the dagger said. Now you can understand the significance of my questions."
I understood it all well enough: far better than the man himself even imagined; and I was completely beaten as to what the inner meaning of this most terrible event could be.
One of my first reflections was that if any of the suspicions of my Nihilism, which the dead man entertained, were chronicled anywhere, my arrest and that of Olga would certainly follow; and we should both be doomed.
"I can scarcely realise it," I said. "It is horrible!"