There was no mistaking the revulsion which she felt. Peter knew now that she was sincere. “I don’t think so now,” he said. “But if I trust you, I must know that you are not a spy. You know that I am not the messenger you are waiting for, yet you have come back to me. I am glad that you came—but why?” “Because death threatens me,” she replied. “And Zorogoff is my danger. I seek your help.” She uttered the words in a low monotone, but with an intensity of feeling which startled Peter. He got up and went to the door quickly and turned the big brass key in the lock—and pocketed the key. “Does that mean I am your prisoner?” she demanded. But there was no fear in her. “Sit down, please,” said Peter gently, ignoring her question. He made a gesture toward the chair at the end of the table opposite his own. Katerin—“Vashka”—obeyed, willingly, it appeared. But her readiness to obey was not so much submission to his will as he supposed. She knew now that Peter had come seeking her father, though the reason was still a mystery. She was determined to solve the mystery and learn his secret. Slipitsky had gone to Rimsky shortly after Wassili arrived at the hotel with the news that Zorogoff knew where the Kirsakoffs were hiding. The old cigarette-seller, alarmed by the fate which had overtaken Ilya, went into a panic of fear when Slipitsky charged him with knowledge of the American officer’s purpose in coming to Chita. The Jew charged Rimsky with knowing more than Rimsky did—and Rimsky lied. He attempted to put the burden of the affair on Peter. Ilya was dead, so Rimsky felt safe in lying. And, in fact, he did not know exactly what he had said to Ilya over the vodka. So to clear his own skirts, Rimsky made the flat statement that the American had asked directly where Kirsakoff might be found. It was a lie—yet it was the truth in so far as Peter’s purpose was concerned. Thus the story of Ilya was verified. Katerin and her father knew Peter sought them. And Katerin had been tempted to reply to Peter’s demand as to why she had returned to his room, by demanding why he had come to Chita. She refrained because she did not expect that Peter would tell her the truth in case he was an enemy. She intended to get at the secret by more devious methods. “Now, you must trust me,” he began, in tones barely audible to her. “You have already told me that you are in danger from Zorogoff—which indicates that you do trust me to some extent. Why do you fear Zorogoff?” “Because he has already threatened me with death—and worse,” she replied, calmly. “He is half Mongol. I do not fear death itself, because if he should take me from this place, I have poison——” She slipped back the cuff of her sleeve, and showed Peter two white capsules held in the hem of the cloth by thread sewn in loosely.