“And what did the American say?” urged Michael, impatient to have the whole story. “Come! You hold it back from me! Is his quest evil?” “He is most eager to find you,” said Katerin, who was reluctant to give the full story too abruptly. She was trying to devise some way of giving the facts to her father which would not be too abrupt and alarm him to rashness. And she wished to have her own plan worked out mentally so that she might have it to offer against the startling import of what she had learned from Peter. “For what purpose?” insisted Michael. His head was beginning to shake faster, as it always did when he was in an excited frame of mind. He reached for a cigarette from a tin box, and his hands shook so that he dropped the tiny tube of tobacco. “I am not sure yet,” said Katerin. “That is something I have still to learn. All I know now is that he is not a friend—that he means evil to you and we must be careful. We must do nothing to stir his suspicions of who we are, till we have gone to the bottom of what brings him here and what he hopes to do.” “We know enough!” said Michael. “He comes for evil—and I shall kill him!” The old general’s agitation disappeared as if by magic. The scent of danger steadied him, he thrust his chin out and squared his old shoulders, sitting back in his chair as if it were all settled now and all that remained for him to do was to go out into the next room and kill Peter. “No, no,” said Katerin hastily. “Nothing must be done too soon! First, we must learn more about him.” “He is an enemy, that is enough,” said her father. “Wassili, a match!” “Yes, he is an enemy,” admitted Katerin. “But we are not in a position to attack an enemy now; besides, what good would it do us to kill him, if we do not know anything about him? First, as I said, it is my business to draw his secret from him.” Wassili held a flaming match forth to Michael. “Master,” said the _moujik_, as he applied the flame to the cigarette between Michael’s lips, “I am quick with the knife—I can strike a good stroke, and no one will be the wiser, for I can have the body carted into the forest. Then you and the mistress will be free from his danger.” “If we do well, we can use this man to protect us from the Ataman,” put in Katerin. “Though he seems to be a menace, he may in fact be so twisted to our use that he will be our salvation.” “A man who is an enemy! Protect us? Are you talking madness, my daughter, or have my wits become addled by age? I shall not allow a man who is my enemy to save me even if he would or could. No, no, I say it—this American—this Russian who calls himself an American—must die. And no time lost in the matter, let me say!” “But I say you are wrong, father,” insisted Katerin, putting her hands on his knees. “If he does not know who we are, what difference does it make to us or him if he is an enemy. The thing for us to do is to make friends with him—and fool him into the belief——”