And what damage could be done by telling this girl and her father his reasons for wanting Kirsakoff? They, themselves, feared and hated the Governor, who was again in power. They could be trusted not to betray him. “What you say is fair enough,” he said finally. “I think I can convince your father that I am the friend of anybody who was an exile, and that——” He was about to add, “I am an enemy of Michael Kirsakoff.” But he refrained. There would be time enough for that when he talked with her father, and he was determined that before he told his story, he should meet and judge for himself the measure of confidence to be given to the old man who had been an exile. “I should like to know your full reasons—for wanting to find Kirsakoff,” suggested Katerin. She, too, was wary. “You shall hear,” he said, “when I talk with your father.” And he spoke with finality, as if there were no use in going further with the subject. She went to the wardrobe against the wall, and turning to Peter, said, “Move this away from the door which leads to our rooms—I got the Jew to bring us near to you. Now we can pass from our rooms to yours without going into the hall. It will be safer, for we cannot tell who will see us if we have to use the hall.” “That was wise,” he said, and going to the wardrobe, he put his shoulder against it, and steadying it with his hand, shoved it aside far enough to clear the door which it concealed. When he had finished, she picked up the shade of the lamp and slipped it back over the globe. “We are not known to the servants,” she said. “You must be careful with our names—which are—Natsavaloff.” “Perhaps it will be well to avoid using any names,” said Peter. “It might increase your danger.” “It would, indeed,” she agreed. “Now, I shall go round and free the bolt on our side—and take you to my father.” Katerin slipped into the hall, and Peter snapped out the light on the table and waited in darkness. In a minute he heard the rattle of the bolt on the far side of the door, and then it swung open slowly. Katerin stood before him, outlined against the dim light seeping in from a farther room through curtains hanging in a doorway. “Come!” she directed in a whisper. “My father is eager to talk with you. But remember—he is very old, and he is still in some pain from his wounds. And if he is querulous, I trust that you will be patient with him.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ XIX FACE TO FACE