“I know him,” he muttered. “_It is Serge Zamosc!_ What can that scoundrel be doing here? I would give my chances of escape to put my hands on his throat for one moment. But this won’t do—I must be calm. I must find out the meaning of this strange thing. To think that the traitor should turn up here in Siberia! How easily I could shoot him through the window!” Repressing the temptation to do so—but not without difficulty—Sandoff once more put his eyes to the window. Zamosc was standing near the stove, talking in a low tone to the _starosta_. At that instant the door opened, and a Russian officer in undress uniform entered the room—evidently the head official of the village. He favored Zamosc with a slight bow, and said abruptly. “I beg your honor’s pardon, but I must trouble you for your passport.” Zamosc glanced at the other occupants of the room and then led the officer directly to the window, pausing within two feet of Sandoff, who drew his head down and turned his ear upward. Zamosc began to speak in a low voice, but from the fragments that reached him, such as “traveling in secret,” “Inspector of Police,” “government report,” Sandoff was at no loss for a clew to the situation. Then the speakers raised their voices slightly, and the unseen listener heard every word that was spoken. “Inspector Serge Zamosc and companions,” said the officer, evidently reading from the passport. “How does it come that you are alone?” “Why, have you not heard?” asked Zamosc in surprise. “I met with an unfortunate accident yesterday about twenty miles back. My horses got off the post road and broke through the ice into the Amur River. I had two Cossacks with me beside the driver. The latter and one of the Cossacks were drowned, and the other soldier was so badly kicked by the horses that I had to leave him at the next station back. I telegraphed on here for a fresh escort. Did you not get the message?” “No,” said the officer decidedly. “I received no message.” “That is unfortunate,” exclaimed Zamosc angrily. “The stupid fellow at the office shall pay dearly for his negligence. I will see to that later. But now what am I to do? I am in haste to reach Vladivostok—for I intend to return to Russia by water—and I can’t go on by myself. The driver whom I brought along tonight must return in the morning to the station he came from. Can’t you spare me two of your Cossacks, captain?” “Impossible, your excellency,” was the quick but courteous reply. “I am short of men now, or I would gladly oblige you. At the next station, however, which is thirty miles distant, you can readily obtain Cossacks and a driver. The latter I could furnish you, but the man I have in view is really not trustworthy and I dare not recommend him.” “Then I won’t think of taking him,” said Zamosc. “If the next station is but thirty miles away I will drive there alone. I have good horses, and know how to manage them. Bear in mind that I am traveling secretly,” he added in a lower voice.