"There!" cried the Russian, wildly exhorting the girl. "Did I not tell you so? A slave--an escaping slave--here at Nemi. Let him go, I say, or I shall not answer for the consequences."
"Of course, Monsieur----" said Rowland.
But at a sign from the girl, the American paused at the door and stood, his weariness forgotten in the curious dialogue that followed, which seemed to plunge him deeper into the mystery of this strange couple and the house of the walled garden. The girl Tanya crossed the room swiftly and noiselessly and laid her hand upon the arm of Kirylo Ivanitch, who now paced to and fro before the fireplace, like some caged beast, his head lowered, seeming not to see but furtively watching the dusty boots of the astonished fugitive.
"It is not possible, Kirylo," she said softly. "He knows nothing. Would he not have broken IT at once? Who was to have prevented him? Not I. He is merely a boy and free from guile. Can you not see?"
"It is dangerous for him to remain," gasped the Russian.
"It is more dangerous for you to indulge these mad fancies. IT is safe yonder. Go and see for yourself. I, Tanya Korasov, will vouch for this weary fugitive. But you shall not turn a loyal ally of Russia out into the night. Tomorrow he shall go forth and you shall send him, refreshed and safely conducted to the border of France, when he will go and fight your battles and mine, with the common enemy of Humanity. Do you hear?"
He stared at her, sullenly.
"I shall conduct him nowhere. I wish him to go," he said.
But the girl stood her ground, continuing calmly:
"Tomorrow morning you shall give him a suit of civilian clothing and he will go upon his way, thanking you, Kirylo Ivanitch. That is all."