But the man who led had recovered from his bewilderment. "Stand, or I fire!" he called out, covering Streloff with the muzzle of his revolver.
"Streloff!" shouted Felix. "What are you doing here? Help me, you young fool! Knock that fellow down!"
"He has a knife! Look out!" cried another of the masked men, springing behind Streloff and pinioning his elbows.
The young man guessed himself in a trap, though unable to understand its nature. They were gagging Felix—he saw that—they could not understand that he, Streloff, was on their side—they might think him a rescue party, since they probably knew him to be in Vronsky's service. He struggled like a panther in the hold of his captor, writhed himself free, and hurled himself, knife in hand, upon Vanston. There could be no doubt of his murderous intent, and the man who covered him with his revolver fired without hesitation. The sound died away upon the quiet air, a light smoke drifted between the horrified eyes of Felix and the black trunks of the surrounding trees. Streloff dropped forwards, a strangled word upon his lips, a grin of rage upon his features. His blade had actually grazed young Vanston's ribs.
"Please God," said the policeman who had shot Streloff to Felix, "you'll never be nearer death than that again—until your time comes."
"Are there any more of them?" asked one of his colleagues, moving cautiously along the edge of the wood.
"I saw only him," replied a subordinate.
They raised the young fellow's body. He was quite dead.
"But he never could have started out alone to grapple with Mr. Vanston and Max," thoughtfully said the policeman. He gave an order, suddenly and sharp. "Search the wood thoroughly on both sides."
The men went off, searching up and down. But the two Kirgiz had got a couple of minutes' start, and they made the most of it. Like streaks of shadow they fled, down by-ways they knew well, and never paused until they stood before the yourtar, and roused the sleeping wife and children. By morning all was gone. There was no trace of yesterday's camp, except the brown circle of downtrodden grass where the tent had stood. The two men, the woman and the children, were tramping harmlessly along the highroad southward, towards the yourtar whither Cravatz had withdrawn.