“Wait!” he cried thickly.
It had come at last, but I carried things with a high hand.
“Do not trifle,” I exclaimed sternly, “you are facing death; speak the whole truth.”
“You are a hard man,” he said in his sullen voice. “I am likely to die in either case, but I am not prepared now.”
“Be quick!” I cried with impatience; “where is M. de Lambert?”
“Where he is not likely to escape so easily,” he answered, with a certain vicious triumph in his tone; “he is in a guard-room of the Kremlin.”
I started; something in his tone convinced me that he spoke the truth, and I was not prepared for it.
“He could not be there without the czar’s order,” I exclaimed, “and I have his passports.”
“He was committed by the czar’s officers,” he replied.
“And you betrayed him into their hands,” I said fiercely.