“So that is it!” said Peter, looking into her eyes and seeing the truth in them. His face began slowly to change from an expression of startled comprehension of her plight, to anger; he drew his lips back upon his teeth, and the rising anger glittered in his eyes. “The Mongol dog!” he whispered. “Can he dare—with a Russian woman—a woman like you!” He saw relief from strain come into her face, and she clasped her hands together in a quick gesture of joy at his understanding and sympathy. “So that is why I came back here to you. You were a Russian, and I knew you would understand—and an American officer.” He took her hands and kissed them, with head bowed, after the Russian fashion, as an act of fealty and respect. “I don’t know what I can do,” he said after a minute. “But I do know that if Zorogoff dares touch you, I shall stand in his way. True, I am a Russian—as this Mongol shall learn.” “Thank you,” she said simply, withdrawing her hands. “You cannot fight an army, and Zorogoff has many men to do his bidding. You would be helpless against him. He is not a man to allow a single American to thwart him.” “I do not fear him,” said Peter. “I doubt if he would dare kill an American officer.” She smiled at his belief that Zorogoff could be checked by any fear of the American army. “Who would know who killed you, or when?” she asked. “No, you must not risk your life for me. Zorogoff’s hand would not be known if you were destroyed—and I would not be any the better.” “Does he know you are here—in this hotel?” “Yes, he has traced me. The city is full of his spies, and there is a Russian behind his power—a Russian of the old régime who is advising Zorogoff.” “Who?” asked Peter. “Oh, you would not know him,” she said, with a shrug of her shoulders. “I fear him more than Zorogoff, for I know that that this Russian is a part of Zorogoff’s government.” “But I should know,” insisted Peter. “If I am to help you, I should know all the facts in the case, so that I may inform my superiors. Who is this Russian?” “He was a Governor here in the old days—before the revolution.” Peter leaned forward across the table, keenly alert, though he attempted to conceal his interest. “A Governor of the old days,” he said slowly and softly, so that the sentence was akin to a caress. “That is interesting. I wish you might tell me his name.” She brushed her hand across her brow. “It is a dangerous secret,” she warned. He laughed lightly. “Dangerous secrets are my business,” he said. “Learning them—and sometimes keeping them.” “As I am in great danger because of having this secret, you also would be in great danger from Zorogoff if you had it. Remember, I caution you—Zorogoff will do all in his power to prevent you from escaping Chita if he learns that you know who is behind him and his government.” “I accept the danger,” said Peter. “Come—we shall be in danger together! What is the name of this former governor?”