“I don’t need so much as that,” he said.
“If you’ll comply with one condition, I’ll double the amount.”
His quick glance asked my meaning.
“You are the one man whose evidence can prove what took place when Vastic was killed. Leave Russia and go to any place you please, but let me know where to find you; you can write to Mr. Harold Marvyn, of the American Embassy here. And if I need your evidence, be ready to swear to what occurred at Brabinsk. Do this, and I’ll see that you have a fair start in a new country. You’re not of the stuff that makes good conspirators. Come; your gun, right now, as a pledge you trust me and will do what I say.” And I held out my hand for it.
He hesitated, looking at me nervously.
“I’m a prisoner, monsieur,” he murmured.
“Rubbish! Here,” and I tossed the key of the room over to him.
“By God, you’re a man!” he cried. “You make me feel like a vile wretch of a coward;” and he pushed the revolver toward me. “I was drawn into this thing, like so many others, and the net was too strong to break. But I could get away now, and if you’ll give me a chance——”
“All right. Here’s the money. I’ll have your story when we meet outside your infernal country. Now go, I’m busy. By the way, what’s your name?”
He picked up the notes almost like a man in a dream and as if he could not believe in his good fortune, and put them away.