"You know. You've written it often enough to Anna."
Good. I had got the daughter's name at any rate.
"Yes, but this is for the police, and must be accurate." The start he gave was an unmistakable start of fear.
"Everyone knows how to spell Peter, I suppose. And you ought to know how to spell Prashil, seeing your own child has to bear the name."
"The Bearer of this, Peter Prashil, declares that he has some information to give to you which incriminates me. Take his statement in writing and have it investigated. Hold him prisoner, meanwhile, for he has been attempting to blackmail me. You, or your agents will know him well.
Signed, ALEXIS PETROVITCH.
Lieutenant, Moscow Infantry Regiment."
"Now," I cried, rising, giving him the paper, and throwing open the door. "Take that paper and go straight to the Police. Tell them all you know. Or if you like it better stand to-morrow at midday in the Square of the Cathedral and shout it out with all your lungs for the whole of Moscow to hear. Or get it inserted in every newspaper in the city. Go!" and I pointed the way and stared at him sternly and angrily.
"I don't want to harm you."
"Go!" I said. "Or I'll wake my servant and have the police brought here."
For a minute he tried to return my look, and fumbled with the paper irresolutely.