“We must be careful,” he said. “We must place clearly before ourselves the risks that we are running before we come to any decision. For you the risk is simply that of unofficial banishment. They can hardly send you to Siberia because you are half an Englishman; and that impertinent country has a habit of getting up and shouting when her sons are interfered with. But they can easily make Russia impossible for you. They can do you more harm than you think. They can do these poor devils of peasants of yours more harm than we can comfortably contemplate. As for me,” he paused and shrugged his great shoulders, “it means Siberia. Already I am a suspect—a persona non grata.”
“I do not see how we can refuse to help Catrina,” said Paul, in a voice which Steinmetz seemed to know, for he suddenly gave in.
“As you will,” he said.
He sat up, and, drawing a small table toward him, took up a pen reflectively. Paul watched him in silence.
When the letter was finished, Steinmetz read it aloud:
“My Dear Catrina:
“The Moscow doctor and your obedient servant will be (D.V.) in Thors by seven o’clock to-night. We propose spending about an hour in the village, if you will kindly advise the starosta to be ready for us. As our time is limited, and we are much needed in Osterno, we shall have to deprive ourselves of the pleasure of calling at the castle. The prince sends kind remembrances, and proposes riding over to Thors to avail himself of your proffered hospitality in a day or two. With salutations to the countess,
“Your old friend,
“Karl Steinmetz.”
Steinmetz waited with the letter in his hand for Paul’s approval. “You see,” he explained, “you are notoriously indifferent to the welfare of the peasants. It would be unnatural if you suddenly displayed so much interest as to induce you to go to Thors on a mission of charity.”