“It is dangerous for me to stay here,” objected Berchik.
“That is true,” replied Prince Zuvor. He seemed to be formulating a plan.
“Perhaps I can help you — to escape. Perhaps I can also — keep a guarding eye upon this American whom you have mentioned.”
A smile of relief appeared upon Berchik’s face. The Russian servant seemed to be freed of his former anxiety. His appeal to Prince Zuvor had been successful.
“What is the American’s name?” questioned Prince Zuvor quietly.
“Bruce Duncan,” whispered Berchik. He drew a slip of paper from his pocket, and scrawled some words upon it. “This is his address. Can I count on you to protect him, your excellency?”
“Certainly,” replied Prince Zuvor, with a smile. “Now for your escape, Berchik!
“Unknown to any one, I have devised a plan whereby I can flee from here at a moment’s notice. That plan will be utilized to-night; but it will be you who will escape. You have money, you say?”
Berchik nodded.
Prince Zuvor went to a handsome mahogany writing table, and inscribed a series of directions. He passed the paper to Berchik. The servant read the words, and smiled. Prince Zuvor shook hands with Berchik, as the latter rose.