“And what is that?”
She arose, her eyes shining with fever.
“I fear lest he has saved my uncle from the authorities only to ruin him more completely.”
“How can you think such a thing for a moment?” I asked her, convinced that her fears were robbing her of her senses.
“I am sure that I could read some such plan in the eyes of your friend a little while ago. If I were sure that I were right, I would rather hand my uncle over to the mercies of the authorities!”
I managed to quiet her a little and to make her cast aside such an impossible supposition, and, at length, she said:
“At all events, it is necessary to be ready for anything, and I know how to defend him so long as I draw breath.”
And she showed me a tiny revolver which was hidden in her gown.
“Ah!” she cried again. “Why is Prince Galitch not here?”
“Again?” I exclaimed, angrily.