He began to question me arrogantly, but modified his tone when I asserted that I was an American citizen, resident in Petersburg as representative of an English newspaper; and reminded him that, if he dared to detain me, he would have to reckon with both the American and English authorities.
“That is all very well; but you have yet to explain how you came to be breaking the law,” he retorted.
“What law have I broken?” I demanded.
“You were running away.”
“I was not. I was running after a droshky.”
“Why?”
“Because there was a woman in it—a lady—an Englishwoman or American, who called out to me to help her.”
“Who was the woman?”
“How should I know?” I asked blandly. I remembered what Von Eckhardt had told me,—that the police had been on Anne’s track for these three years past. If the peril in which she was now placed was from the revolutionists, as it must be, I could not help her by betraying her to the police.
“You say she was English or American? Why do you say so?”