“It will serve well enough,” she said finally. “If he knows you now, he would know you in spite of anything we could do. And now listen to my plan. You have been a political here for the past ten years—and you hated General Kirsakoff, who was a cruel Governor and——”
Michael gave a snort of wrath and wrested the bandage off over his head and threw it upon the floor.
“I will have nothing more to do with this madness! I was not cruel—I was but just! And I shall not blacken my own character! Not an inch shall I give to my enemies on that score—I, who was a general in the army of majesty!”
Katerin laughed heartily, and picked up the bandage. She knew better than to take her father seriously when he was in such temper, and she also knew that she should gain her end if she were patient with him.
“I only say what the American thinks,” she explained. “If he already thinks that of you, you do not damage yourself. And what a joke! A joke that will save us! General Kirsakoff telling how cruel Governor Kirsakoff was! Would you not fool this stranger now, to laugh at him after we have lost him in Harbin where we are safe?”
Wassili sneaked away into a corner to laugh discreetly, his shoulders heaving with suppressed merriment over the wrath of Michael.
“Be still, you, Wassili,” growled the old man, turning to look after the moujik. “By the Saints!” he cried to Katerin. “You see how it is? Am I to be made into a buffoon for my servants in my old age? Am I to be turned into an actor in a play, a silly clown of a fellow to make the country folk giggle into their drink? Am I to forget what figure of a man I was——”
“You forget my danger,” she chided gently.
“I forget nothing!” he retorted. “It is I who am remembering that I once was Governor here!”
“Do you remember the Ataman Zorogoff?” she asked, with sober face.