“Then your father is in the city?” asked Peter.
“Here in the hotel with me. We came here and hid against Zorogoff—and Kirsakoff. That is why I came to you when I heard there was an American staying here. We knew we could trust you.”
She went on and told him how Zorogoff’s soldiers, and the Ataman himself, had given her and her father the mental torture with firing squads; of the threat of the Ataman for revenge upon her for her insults, and the flight from the house to the hotel when they heard that an American was at the hotel. But she did not mention Rimsky or Ilya.
“And you have no way of escape from the city?” asked Peter.
“It is impossible,” said Katerin. “Some of our friends got away. But Zorogoff put the cordons round the city after that, and then Kirsakoff joined with Zorogoff.”
“What kind of man is this Kirsakoff? What does he look like?” asked Peter, set upon getting all he could about his enemy.
Katerin looked over Peter’s head, toward the window, and thought for a second as if recalling the appearance of her father. “He is a tall man, strong but not heavy,” she said slowly. “A face inclined to redness—and black mustaches. He is a soldier, of course, and stands very straight.”
“Of course,” said Peter. He recognized the description, for Katerin had described her father as he had looked when he was in his prime. “Does he go about the city? Could I recognize him by his uniform?”
He was eager but cautious.
“He might be found at the sobrania late at night,” said Katerin. “But he will be well guarded. You should be careful in approaching him, for he has a secret bodyguard, as well as the officers who generally are drinking wine with him. He does not wear a uniform, but rich furs, and he wears his pistols out of sight. He does not always dress the same, for he has been a cruel man, and is much hated by many people.”