“I don’t doubt your word, good Alexis, but I strongly suspect the motives of a principal who clothes himself with such secrecy. It is now close upon twelve o’clock. Why may I not go with you to-morrow, and in daylight?”
“To-morrow will be too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“That is the answer I was told to give. It must be to-night or never.”
“You do not know, then, for what purpose I am wanted?”
Alexis signified that he did not.
Wilfrid mused. Was it safe to pay a visit at midnight to a strange house for the purpose of meeting a man who declined to state beforehand either his name or business? It was certain he had in the city one enemy, Baranoff, if not more; and this errand of Alexis might be the initial step for putting him into that enemy’s hand. A little reflection, however, caused Wilfrid to dismiss this theory. Why should Baranoff employ all this secrecy? If he wanted to remove an enemy he had simply to sign an order for that enemy’s deportation to Siberia, and the thing was done.
Then there occurred to him an idea that set his blood tingling with a pleasurable excitement.
“So,” said he to Alexis, “you will not give me the name of the lady that has sent you?”
It was a chance statement, but it found verification in Alexis’ sudden look of surprise.