For a moment the Bolshevik official was on the point of another outburst; then he changed his mind, and nodded slowly, as though approving the suggestion.
“Tell me,” he said, “what are your tendencies? Do you favor the old regime in Russia, or the new?”
“I am concerned with neither,” said the man in the chair wearily. “To me, all gems are mere trifles. Whether they be worthless or priceless, the glittering baubles that were stolen are as nothing, compared with the life of a single innocent person.
“I can obtain them” — he spoke with an assurance that astonished Motkin— “and I could offer them to any one who could give me the opportunity that I require. It so happens that you can give me this opportunity. That is why I have promised to return them to you, if you will arrange my safe conduct from Moscow by tonight.”
Motkin was thoughtful. He was not at all satisfied with this proposal, but he wisely curbed his disdain. He noted that the man in the chair was becoming visibly weakened, that the eyes, despite their firm gaze, appeared tired.
He decided that his best course was to pretend that he might accede to his prisoner’s wishes.
Accordingly, Motkin spoke in an unusually cagey tone.
“Let me consider this matter for a while,” he declared. “There are certain points which I must decide in my own mind.”
With that, Motkin walked away. Henry Arnaud’s eyes closed. He appeared to be asleep.
Motkin went to the desk at the other side of the room, and began to arrange papers which he drew from his pocket. Here, away from the gaze which had seemed to penetrate his thoughts, Motkin’s mind began to scheme.