“We might not be able to find Kirsakoff in Harbin,” he suggested.
“True,” she admitted at once. “He spends his time between Harbin and Chita. By the time we got there, he might be on his way back here.”
“Would you advise waiting?” he asked.
“That is for you to decide.”
“Then we shall go to Harbin,” he announced. “This is a serious thing to me. As I told you last night, I have waited twenty years to find Kirsakoff.”
“It should not be difficult,” she said casually.
“Not with your help,” he said, with a play at enthusiasm. “If I find him, it will be because——” He stopped short. What he was about to say was that if he found Kirsakoff, it would be due to her. But that was not true—she was concealing Kirsakoff. Peter felt he owed her nothing there.
“Perhaps you would prefer to wait till you feel better,” suggested Katerin. She was still worried about his constrained manner, and not quite sure that the change which she detected in him was due to his feeling badly, as he claimed. She sensed an undercurrent of agitation, and though the reason of it was far beyond her intuitions, she knew he had undergone some change during the night—there was something hostile in his eye, something in the slow turning of his head which revealed to her the brooding rage which burned in his brain.
“I feel well enough,” he said, putting his hand to his ruffled brow. “The pain has gone, but I feel dull and stupid. I hope you will forgive my—stolidity.” He forced a smile, and threw back his head and shook it as if to dispel a heaviness.
“When should we attempt to get away?” she asked.