I was fascinated by the expression of the young lady’s face, or rather of her eyes, which from brown seemed to have turned to black and were blazing with a fierce, angry light. Did she know Michel Seguin that she was so excited at the mention of his name, and who was she? My curiosity was roused, and still I said nothing, except to answer Jack, who finally asked if I had ever heard what became of the poor wretch who asked alms of me on the Court Quay and who proved to be a notorious nihilist and was arrested.
“You wrote a note to his wife, didn’t you?” Jack continued. “Do you suppose he was sent to Siberia?”
The window on Jack’s side had been shut, but now the young girl opened it quickly and thrust her head out for air. Then withdrawing it, she electrified us by saying, in excellent English, although with an accent:
“Excuse me if I keep the window open a moment. I have sudden spells of being faint, and it seems rather close.”
“Oh,” Jack said. “You speak English! I thought you were French.”
“Oh, no,” and she laughed, showing her white teeth again, “I am not French. I am a Russian from St. Petersburg.”
“A Russian!” Katy and Jack repeated in a breath.
“I’m so glad,” Jack went on. “We are going to Russia, to St. Petersburg, and you can tell us a lot.”
She smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm, and smiled more as, forgetting that he was not to talk to strangers, he continued: “We—that is, Katy and I—are Katy and Jack Barton. She is Katy, and I am Jack. Mother died when I was born. We live in Washington, where father, who was a colonel in the army, has something to do in the Pension Office. Aunt Lucy Harding is our aunt. She has been in St. Petersburg and speaks the language like a native. She had lots of mixups with nihilists and things, and a big dog, Chance.”
He stopped to take breath, while the young lady put her head from the window again to get the air. She was very white when she sat back in her corner and closed her eyes, in which I was sure there were tears, for she held her handkerchief to them for a moment. Then she recovered herself and smiled very brightly upon the loquacious boy, who rattled on: “That dog Chance must be a case. Auntie has a picture of him. Did you ever see him?”