"Thanks," said the boy, who suddenly paused in the act of remounting his wheel and clapped his hand to his pocket. "Here's a letter, too."
As he rode away the two slowly retraced their steps.
"You will pardon me if I read this note?"
Anne, strangely abstracted, nodded, and Koltsoff tore open the envelope. As he read the letter his brow darkened.
"Gone!" he muttered. Then he read the letter again.
Yeasky would not have departed without the best of reasons. He held the inked-out line to the light but could make nothing of it. He walked along beside the girl in deep thought. His hands trembled. He knew that in his possession was that which represented the triumph of his career. There were few honors which a grateful Government would withhold from him. Besides, it meant the probable rehabilitation of the prestige of the Russian arms; that thought thrilled him no less, for he was a patriot.
And yet amid all his exaltation indecision filled him. Duty pointed a direct and immediate course to St. Petersburg. Other emotions dictated his remaining at The Crags. The package could not be intrusted to the express companies. It must be carried personally to Russia. And yet—and yet he could not leave Newport now. Just a little while! He must wait. To his Czar, to his country, he owed haste; to himself he owed delay. Which debt should he cancel? Suddenly with a sharp upward turn of the head he dismissed all conflicting thoughts from his mind, refused utterly to allow them to remain, and turned to the girl. They were entering a small grove of trees.
An inspiration had flashed over him, dominant, compelling. He spoke impulsively, almost wildly; so much so that Anne stopped, startled. In his outstretched hand the package was within a few inches of her face.
"Miss Wellington," he cried, "we were speaking of opportunities, but a while ago. May I call upon you now? I have said I am not in Newport for pleasure alone. A great matter has been consummated. I hold it in my hand. Who can trust servants? My valet? No! Who? Can I trust you. Miss Wellington? Can I place my honor, my life, in your hands, for a week, not more?"
"Why, I—" began Anne.