"A ghastly succession--and Ivanitch----?" he questioned.
She frowned and bent forward, her chin cupped in a hand.
"No one knows of his succession--or no one will tell. It was said that when he returned from Siberia, he killed the man who had sent him there."
"A pretty business," said Rowland, rising. "But I did not kill Kirylo Ivanitch----" he protested. "It was he himself who----" He paused and stared at Tanya thoughtfully.
"You can not deny that if he had not attacked you, he would be here, alive--now."
"That is true, perhaps. But murder--assassination----" He stopped and smiled grimly.
"Mademoiselle Korasov, I'm a soldier and have seen blood shed in a righteous cause. I kill a strange German in a trench because there is not room for us both, and because I am trained to kill as a duty I owe to France. But this----" he waved his hand toward the garden--"this is a brawl. A man attacks me. I defend myself--I strike him with my fists when I might have plunged his own knife into his heart. You saw me--I threw his knife away and fought as we do in my own country, with my hands. If he falls and strikes his head upon a stone----"
He broke off with a shrug.
"Whatever your rights, and I bear witness to them--nevertheless, Monsieur--justified as you are in our eyes and your own conscience, it was you who killed Kirylo Ivanitch."
He stared at her for a moment. Her brows were drawn, but her eyes peered beyond him, as though only herself saw with a true vision. No fanatic--no dreamer? Then what was behind her thoughts--the ones she had not uttered?