“You are laughing at me! It is useless. You can’t fool me with those stupid fairy-tales of yours. Tell those sweet little stories to the silly little girls of the provinces. I’m an old sparrow. You can’t feed me on chaff.”
Trirodov remained unruffled.
“You’re fuming all for nothing. I’ll help you with money on a condition.”
“What sort of condition?” asked Ostrov with restrained anger.
“You’ll have to go from here—very far—for always,” answered Trirodov.
“I’ll have to think that over,” said Ostrov.
“I give you a week. Come to me exactly within a week, and you’ll receive the money.”
Ostrov suddenly felt an incomprehensible fear. He experienced the feeling of having passed into another’s power. He felt oppressed. A stern smile marked Trirodov’s face. He said quietly:
“You are of such little value that I could kill you without scruple—like a snake. But I am tired even of other people’s murders.”
“My value?” Ostrov muttered hoarsely and absurdly.