“Ah! that’s the name—Viaznika.” “You set off late in the day?” pursued the innkeeper. “About noon.” Boris looked as if Wilfrid had made a very puzzling statement. “Your horses seem fleet enough,” he murmured. “Have you any reason to doubt their fleetness?” smiled Wilfrid. “Why, see here, gospodin. It is now midnight, and since you say you set off at noon, you have taken twelve hours to come thirty-six versts.” Reckon a verst at about two-thirds of the English mile, and it will thus be seen that Wilfrid had been travelling at the magnificent rate of about two miles an hour! But how could this be when the horses had been kept going at a fair trot the whole of the time? Nadia sat silent, her eyes fixed upon the ground. Odd, but Wilfrid somehow derived the impression that the talk had taken a turn distasteful to her. Why should this be? “Have you mistaken the distance between Viaznika and here?” said Wilfrid to the innkeeper. Now whatever faults English travellers may have to find with Russia and her ways, all will bear witness to the excellence of her posting-maps. One of these, placed before Wilfrid, quickly convinced him that Boris was right. The distance by the post-road between Viaznika and Gora was a little more than twenty-four miles. The three-horse car had occupied twelve hours over a journey that a pedestrian could have performed in half the time. It was clear that the yamchik had not followed the ordinary route; in fact, Wilfrid had known thus much at the time, for on pretext of taking a short cut, Izak had frequently deviated, now to the right and now to the left. Wilfrid’s suspicions being thus aroused he began to study the map, and found that the preceding day’s journey could have been accomplished in a considerably less space of time than that actually taken by the yamchik. That worthy’s conduct was certainly puzzling. His motive could hardly be a pecuniary one since Wilfrid, alive to the disadvantages of paying by the day, had by mutual arrangement fixed upon a definite sum for the whole journey, so that manifestly it was to Izak’s interest not to retard, but to accelerate, Wilfrid’s progress. “Where did you pick up the man?” asked Boris. “At Kowno. He came to me of his own accord, saying that as he had heard I was about to make the journey to St. Petersburg would I accept his services? According to his own account he has performed the journey from Kowno to St Petersburg more than a hundred times during the past ten years.” “His face is strange to me. He has never stopped at the Silver Birch.” “Nay, father,” interposed Nadia. “I remember him on two or three occasions.” She caught Wilfrid’s eye as she spoke, and coloured. Wilfrid wondered why. “Let’s have the fellow in here, and we’ll question him,” said he. “He’ll be asleep by this time,” said Nadia gently. “’Twill be a pity to disturb him.”