“I am at a loss,” I remarked, “to understand the attack upon Peter Lykof.”
The prince laughed. “There are many problems in this world, M. le Vicomte,” he said; “but you will find Peter Lykof a very worthy man.”
I determined to throw out a hint that I suspected that Lykof was concealing his true identity.
“The man interests me chiefly,” I said, “because he seems to be of more importance than he claims.”
Galitsyn looked at me thoughtfully, as if making up his mind whether he could fully trust me, and after a moment, determining upon reserve.
“You have approached the truth, M. de Brousson,” he said calmly; “but it is not worth while to fathom it as yet. Lykof is a man who can keep a secret so well that I marvel that you have formed so accurate a conclusion.”
“Perhaps he has been more careless with me than usual,” I replied, satisfied that there was a good deal behind Galitsyn’s reserve, and in spite of myself feeling a keen interest.
“Like the Czarevna Sophia, he has probably recognized your honor, M. le Vicomte,” replied the prince, graciously, fencing as easily as usual.
I had told him of Homyak’s villainy, and now, before taking my leave, recalled it to his mind.
“The rogue deserves punishment richly,” I said angrily, recalling my sensations of suffocation.