The Governor smiled. "Had Mr. Vanston harbored designs against my life," he said, "he would not have told us the things we have just heard. I am going to save him from the power of his tyrants. Let me consider."
There was deep silence in the pleasant room.
"Well, this is my plan," said Stepan Stepanovitch, after a few minutes' thought. "You have a man with you to-day?"
"Max, my coachman——"
"Only he?"
"Only he, your Excellency."
"Is he faithful?"
"Entirely. He is not a Russian, though he speaks Russian well. He is a German Pole, and came to this country with me. He will do anything I tell him."
"Then," said the Governor, "I will send out two or three of my own private police—men I can trust—to waylay you on your homeward journey. They shall be stationed in the darkest part of the wood, And when you drive up, you must let there be as many signs of a scrimmage as you can. The cook shall give them a little blood to scatter, and you must drop a torn handkerchief, or something by which you can be identified. Am I right in supposing that the horses, if frightened, will gallop back to Savlinsky?"
"Yes, I am pretty sure they would."