“You must remember, my father, that our friend has reasons of his own for wanting to find the Governor. And danger may not be a matter of concern.”
Peter gave her a grateful glance for thus allying herself with him.
“If I were to tell you my reason for wanting Kirsakoff, I am sure that you would say that it is good, sir. I have waited many years to come back—and now I must not fail. I shall find Kirsakoff.”
“But I should not like to be the one who puts your life in danger,” said Michael. “You may not be aware of all it means—this business of the Governor is not a light subject. You will do well not to cross his tracks, for he will strike at you through Zorogoff’s spies, and you will never know who struck. One cannot fight an army—and Zorogoff will not brook any interference. He will destroy you like a fly upon his bread.”
“I court the danger,” said Peter, sipping his tea, and willing to wait till the old man was in a humor to be more communicative.
“The Governor has five thousand rifles at his back,” said Michael. “You cannot know yet the full danger.”
“I shall go gladly to meet it,” persisted Peter. “It cannot be any greater than my desire to find Kirsakoff.”
“You would risk death?” asked Michael.
“Even death.”
“What! Twenty years in America, and you would risk death to find Kirsakoff?”