“You were willing—when you went down to arrange for the droshky. You could smile when you thought I was deceived.” His manner with her was easier now, and he seemed to be toying with the situation, testing her bravery.
“Yes, it was all a woman has against a man—a smile for a shield. And you thought you were deceiving me—you would tell to Rimsky what you would not tell to Vashka the samovar girl.”
“Vashka the samovar girl!” he repeated. “Vashka, telling me of Kirsakoff—a tall man in uniform, with black mustaches—a man in his full strength, stalwart—the cruel Governor who was behind the government of Zorogoff!”
“You were secretly seeking my father. It was my duty to learn your secret before you learned ours—a fair game.”
“True!” he admitted.
“I would save you now from the Ataman.” She gave him a quick and eager look. He misread her intent, when he thought she was turning his mind into new channels.
“Save me!” He was incredulous, and once more on the alert against some new plan to entrap him.
“Yes, to save you, Peter Petrovitch! If Zorogoff knows that you had our story, when we are dead, he will fear your knowledge against him—and destroy you.”
“You should think of my safety at this time! Why?”
She bent her head and turned from him, but he took both her arms and swung her so that she had to look into his face. But she evaded his glance, though she did not resist his grasp.