"On my head be it," Tchigorsky muttered. He twisted a cigarette dexterously with his long fingers.
"There is nothing to fear," he said, "nothing with ordinary vigilance. The danger will come when the time for defence has passed and it is our turn to attack. Then there will be danger for the three of us here. Shall we go to bed?"
"I could not sleep for a king's ransom," said Geoffrey.
"Then we will chat and smoke awhile," said Tchigorsky. "If you like, I will go on with the history of our adventures in Lassa."
Geoffrey assented eagerly. Tchigorsky proceeded in a whirl of cigarette smoke.
"We knew we were doomed. We could see our fate in those smiling, merciless eyes. That woman had lived among civilized people; she knew Western life; she had passed in Society almost for an Englishwoman.
"But she was native at heart; all her feelings were with her people. All the past could not save us. She meant us to die, and die with the most horrible torture under her very own eyes. Her life in India was a masquerade—this was her real existence.
"'You fancy you are the first,' she said. 'Did you ever know a Russian traveler, Voski by name? He was very like you.'
"I recollected the man. I had met him years before, and had discussed this very Lassa trip.