By mutual consent explanations on that point ceased. None further were needed. Olga and her lover each knew where the other stood, knew and were happy in the knowledge of the other's love. By mutual consent also they left off for as long as possible any reference to the catastrophe that threatened to wreck their happiness.
Finally, however, it had to be told. Olga, her resolution suddenly breaking, crept into the shelter of his arms when telling of Miridoff's cruel and cunning device. The story finished, she threw her arms around her lover's neck and with a paroxysm of weeping implored him to protect her, to save her from the hideous fate that loomed ahead. Fenton consoled her with brave words of consolation, while black thoughts filled his mind. A primitive desire to kill the cunning Grand Duke took possession of him.
"Don't cry, little girl," he said. "Of course there's a way out. You'll not have to marry that black-hearted scoundrel. To-night Take Larescu will have three thousand men hammering at the gates of Kirkalisse. And I personally guarantee that Miridoff will not get away alive."
But his face belied his words. Fenton realised to the fullest how cunningly Miridoff had laid his plans.
Slowly Olga extricated herself from his arms and dried her eyes. Her courage was coming back. She smiled at him bravely.
"I know you would willingly die to save me," she said. "But how would killing this man help me? Would it carry the pledge to the assassin who waits at an unknown point to take my father's life? No, dear heart, there is nothing that can be done. The spider has spun his web too cleverly. I—I am entangled."
"There will be a way out," said Fenton through set teeth. "I will find it. I can't give you up."
He seized her roughly in his arms and looked long and earnestly into her eyes. Then slowly his hold relaxed. He groaned, miserable and rebellious at his impotence. Gently she drew herself away.
"We have loved but to lose," she whispered. "Courage, my dear. Go please, go now. It makes it so hard——"