"Yes, sir. I am sorry," mumbled the young clerk, who was new to his work, and possibly over-zealous. He went off, and Felix returned to where Vronsky sat, flushed and disturbed, grasping a folded paper.
"Is that it?" whispered Felix, having locked the door.
"Yes—and he saw it. He saw the key round my neck," replied Vronsky, furiously, though under his breath. "It was intentional. I have suspected him ever since he entered my service. Now, the question is, What am I to do?"
Felix made a motion of his head towards the paper.
"That is the evidence of the guilt of Cravatz?"
"It came late last night."
"And I am to take it to the Governor to-day?"
"Yes; he told me that the moment it was in his hands he would have Cravatz arrested. There is ground enough for hanging him here."
Felix stood immovable, while the blood came slowly into his face. He might be nearer death than he knew, and the thought showed him that life was sweeter than at times he was wont to think.
The entrance of Streloff, the new clerk, in that summary way, was the first evidence he had had of Cravatz's spies among their own people. It shook him a little.