She laughed suddenly, as if all that had passed between them had been a joke. She must change her tactics and get his secret. She must not arouse his suspicions as to her identity now, but baffle him in every way, for if he were not a friend he must be a new menace to her and her father.
“Of course you are not the messenger,” she said, and returning to the samovar, took down the teapot, shook it swingingly and looked into it. Her face was flushed again under the excitement of what she had discovered about him. “Come! Have another glass of tea, please—master!” She gave a joking twist to the last word, and threw back her head and laughed gayly.
“But it is too bad if you have been expecting a messenger,” said Peter.
“Oh, it is nothing. Everybody in Siberia is waiting to hear from friends! You Americans! You are too serious about everything—what does it matter if you be not the man?”
But Peter was serious. He almost wished now that he had led her to believe that he was a messenger. For he was afraid that she would go away and he would see her no more. He wanted to see her again and again, and in time bring their conversation to the subject of the former governor and get from her some information as to where he might look for Kirsakoff.
“Is it true that you are in danger?” he asked. “That you must get away from the city?”
“We are all in danger here,” she retorted. “Trust no one—the city is full of spies, and you must be careful what you say—even what you say to me.”
“But I think I could trust you,” he said conciliatingly.
“Please don’t trust me. I would rather not have any secrets. The greatest danger in this city is in having a secret which some person wants. I prefer to know nothing and be safe.”
“Perhaps I could be of help to you,” said Peter, having an idea that by offering protection he could gain her confidence and learn from her where Kirsakoff might be found. “I am an American officer, and if I should employ you for my government no one would dare threaten your safety.”