"The master did nothing of the kind," cried Felix, angrily. "He is lying, for some reason of his own. How did he go? Horse, or on foot?"
Hutin rose. He was a strong-looking young man. "He can hardly be gone yet, sir. He went to the stables to saddle a horse."
"Run after him and bring him back," commanded Felix.
Hutin ran swiftly out. Felix fumed, but commanded himself. He would not go back and distress Vronsky until he knew that the spy had got clear off. For three long, endless minutes he stood there frowning by his own table in the office, turning over sheets of figures in an aimless way, until there was a sound in the doorway and Hutin came in, followed by the truant Streloff, with a scowl upon his dark features. Felix turned to him a face full of kindness and tinged with amusement.
"You are too zealous, Streloff," said he. "It is quite true, the message for the mines was somewhat urgent, but don't go off without express orders, for, you see, as it happens, you are wanted at once by the master. I will not tell him that you were absent, as he is apt to be a good deal vexed by that sort of thing."
Streloff was young, and he could not quite conceal the look of malevolence which he cast upon the man who had foiled him. Felix watched him collect his things and go across the passage to Vronsky's room. He said, low, in Hutin's ear, "Don't let him out of your sight till I come back, if you can help it."
Hutin lifted big, dog-like eyes to the young man's face, and squared a huge fist with an amiable smile.
Felix waited a moment, shrugged his shoulders, and went out to where his tarantasse waited at the door, in the brilliant sunshine. Max, his driver, nodded gayly as the young master appeared, seated himself in the elegant little carriage, took the reins from his servant, shook them lightly, and with the sound of bells they shot off along the good road that led straight from the mines to Nicolashof.
For the first three miles still the bare, treeless plain, of coarse grass, in undulations like the waves of a dirty gray-green sea suddenly solidified, and overblown with dust. But on the western horizon was a dark purple line which, as they approached it, showed itself to be the edge of the huge black forest, stretching for miles and miles. Straight into the trees led the white ribbon of road. First there were birch trees, light and fanciful, a wood full of sunshine and wild-flowers. But in another mile or so their place was taken by the black firs, the straight, unbending shafts of the dim mysterious pines. Still, the forest was not here so deep. Glades intervened and broke the monotony. After a while they came out upon a large clearing, whereon was built a prosperous-looking village, with its church and school: just beyond it, the park gates of Nicolashof. Max opened them, and the tarantasse shot lightly up the well-kept road, and came to a standstill before the door of a long, low house, built of wood, but massive and comfortable-looking.
Felix's face, as he threw the reins to Max and alighted from his carriage, bore a look of preoccupation. For several months there had hung over his head the malign shadow of the Brotherhood. The order sent to him to remove the Governor was, of course, merely a pretext for his own murder. Cravatz knew well that Felix would not, at the command of any secret society, assassinate his friend. But after the lapse of the appointed time, Cravatz would be justified in accomplishing the murder of Felix himself.