“I have no idea,” I said, decisively.
“Then how do you know about him?”
“I heard in Finland of his arrest.”
Zorinsky leaned back again in his chair and his eyes wandered out of the window.
“I should have thought,” I observed, after a pause, “that knowing all you do, you would have followed his movements.”
“Aha,” he exclaimed, and in the shadow his smile looked like a black streak obliterating one-half of his face, “but there is one place I avoid, and that is No. 2 Goróhovaya! When any one gets arrested I leave him alone. I am wiser than to attempt to probe the mysteries of that institution.”
Zorinsky’s words reminded me abruptly of Melnikoff.
“But you spoke of the possibility of saving Melnikoff,” I said. “Is he not in the hands of No. 2 Goróhovaya?”
He turned round and looked me full in the face. “Yes,” he said, seriously, “with Melnikoff it is different. We must act at once and leave no stone unturned. I know a man who will be able to investigate and I’ll get him on the job to-night. Will you not stay to dinner? My wife will be delighted to meet you, and she understands discretion.”
Seeing no special reason to refuse, I accepted the invitation. Zorinsky went to the telephone and I heard him ask some one to call about nine o’clock “on an urgent matter.”