“Why should anybody kill Kirsakoff?” demanded Rimsky.
“That is what I should like to know. Everybody said he was a good man, but perhaps some people did not like him—people in the prison, of course, who were against the government.”
“General Kirsakoff had been retired when the troubles came,” said Rimsky. “More than seven years ago he was retired. I remembered well the time—I had a sore foot.”
“Was he gone from Chita when the troubles came?”
“No, he was here,” said Rimsky, looking straight at Peter.
“Ah!” said Peter. “So the provodnik lied when he said Kirsakoff was dead. He is still here.”
“What does it matter where he is?” asked Rimsky.
“It does not matter,” said Peter, and set the glass on the table, buttoning his coat about his neck in preparation for leaving.
“I hear much gossip in this place,” said Rimsky. “Where do you live in the city?”
“Thank you for the tea,” said Peter. “It is cold outside. I may want some more cigarettes—at twenty rubles a box.”