"He's dead?" he asked.
"Yes--No! His heart beats----"
"Ach--we must get him out of this--into the air. Pfui! It is enough to stifle one. Can you help, Zoya? His feet----"
Max Liederman raised the prostrate man and between them, they half dragged, half carried him out along the corridor and up the steps into the air. Without waiting for instructions Zoya ran to the house and came back with water and brandy. By the time she returned Liederman had loosened the American's collar, and after a while, in response to treatment, Rowland moved slightly and opened his eyes. He turned his head from side to side, gazing up through the trees at the spreading dawn and then his look met Zoya Rochal's. He concentrated his gaze with some difficulty as though not sure of himself, and then with an effort raised himself upon one elbow, his hand to his brows in a moment of thought.
"Khodkine!" he muttered weakly in English. "And the--the blighter--got--got away with it."
"Khodkine--yes-----" uttered Liederman.
Rowland grinned up at his interrogator and nodded.
"Gone--got the best of me----"
"With the money? And Mademoiselle Korasov----?" questioned Liederman keenly.
Rowland brushed a hand across his brow and started upright.