“Yes,” replied the professor, “I should. Produce it, if you please. But,” he continued, warningly, “be very careful what you are about; bear in mind that I am covering you, and I warn you that if I detect the slightest appearance of haste in your movements, or if you produce anything except the telegram from your pocket, I shall shoot you, without a particle of compunction.”
The count, keeping a wary eye upon von Schalckenberg, proceeded, with much care and deliberation, to feel in his pocket for the telegram, which he presently produced, in its envelope, and placed upon the table before him.
“Are you sure that is it?” demanded von Schalckenberg.
“Quite certain,” responded Vasilovich.
“Then, have the goodness to take it out of the envelope and spread it open on the table,” commanded the professor.
Without a word, Vasilovich did as he was ordered.
“Now,” resumed the professor, “rise from your chair, turn your back to me, and march slowly forward until you are against the wall. March!”
“Confound you!” exclaimed Vasilovich, his eyes gleaming with fury, “you will not give me a chance!” And he rose, obedient to von Schalckenberg’s command, faced about, and moved forward to the wall, the professor following him until the telegram was within his reach, when he stretched out his hand, took possession of the document and, still watching his prisoner out of the corner of his eye, read as follows, in Russian—
“Convict-steamer Ludwig Gadd just sailed for Sakhalien with Sziszkinski safe on board.
“Tchernigov.”