Peter swung round from the window and threw Michael upon his feet. The old general swayed dizzily and saved himself from falling by grasping at the table. Peter stood glowering, arms hanging out from his sides with fingers widespread as if he were about to seize Michael again.
“You shall have your vengeance!” cried Michael, and held up an arm to restrain Peter for a time.
“Oh, shall I?” asked Peter sneeringly, a crooked smile playing at the side of his mouth. “Perhaps you covered your face that I might have my vengeance! Did you plan to take me to Harbin to find Kirsakoff? Did you put Wassili behind my chair with a knife to——?”
“Give heed to my words!” pleaded Michael in a passionate outburst. “I will bargain with you!”
Peter laughed at him.
“Bargain! Why should I buy what I already have?”
“Look!” Michael held forth his hand to Peter. Between the fingers was a small white pellet.
“And what is that?” asked Peter.
“I could still defeat you, Gorekin. This is a poison tablet—quick as a bullet or a blade.”
“For me, Michael? Is it for me?” sneered Peter.