But Peter abandoned his suspicion when he heard a rattling of the door in the far room. Some one was rattling the knob in place of knocking, a practice customary when one wanted to enter without attracting the attention of those in other rooms opening into the hall. The rattling ceased. The next instant Peter saw in the gloom of the far room a high white cap of wool, and a gray sheepskin coat, and a Cossack stood looking in the direction of Peter, head bent forward against the sharper light from Peter’s windows.
The Cossack hesitated but a moment, then he advanced toward Peter, one hand behind him as if he held a weapon in concealment.
“What do you want?” asked Peter.
The Cossack did not reply, but came on till he was close to Peter.
“Who are you?” asked the Cossack. He moved slightly to the right and looked past Peter, his eyes upon Michael.
“I am an American officer,” said Peter coldly. “These are my rooms.”
“An American officer! You speak Russian well, for an American.”
“You are intruding,” said Peter. “Or have you come on a mission?”
“I am Captain Shimilin of the Ataman’s staff,” said the Cossack, and put his hand on the hilt of his saber as he clicked his heels and bowed, formally polite.
“And I am Lieutenant Gordon of the American army,” said Peter. “This is my room. Please! Come in!” There was no other thing for Peter to do, unless he wished to bring on hostilities with Shimilin. It was very likely that the Cossack captain had soldiers within call. And now it looked very much as if an escape to Harbin would be out of the question.