“Turnieff, if I did not feel a certain degree of pity for you, I would chuck you back on the grass and leave you. As it is, I am sorry for you. You have been endeavoring to hate this woman whom you believe killed your father, or caused his death, and instead you are in love with her. You have gone into her presence time after time, deceiving yourself into the idea that you were seeking vengeance, when in reality you were only a moth playing around a flame which, unless you break away, will consume you utterly. Believe me, it is true.”
“Release me, I say! Let me go.”
“What will you do if I let you go?”
“I will strike you in the face to discover if there is any fight in you.”
“Listen to me a moment, colonel, and then I will let you go. Do you realize that I am now in the service of your country, and am acting under the direct commands of your ambassador? Do you understand that you are jeopardizing your whole career at this moment? If I should report to the ambassador what you have done, you would be sent back to St. Petersburg at once. For what are you so conducting yourself?”
The man struggled fiercely, but Nick Carter held him; and the detective saw that he was coming to his senses, too.
“I shall release you now, Turnieff,” he said, and suited the action to the word. “There is a gate yonder; pass through it. We will walk down the avenue together while we talk. I only hope for your own sake that no person has seen this affair.”
But Turnieff did not reply. Neither did he follow the advice of the detective and go to the gate. He stood quite still, staring at Nick, evidently impressed by what had been said to him, but too stubborn to do as was suggested.
And Nick, half disgusted by all of the events of the night, turned away.