“Of course. Have no hesitation in speaking.” “Then what I wish to say to you is that if I were you, I would not trust civilians who live in this hotel.” Lutoff looked squarely at Peter, as if to gauge the effect of the advice on him. “Civilians!” exclaimed Peter. “Why, I did not think of that. I supposed that nearly everybody in the hotel was in the Ataman’s service.” “There are many who are not,” said Lutoff, a trifle annoyed by Peter’s coolness. “Surely, you do not think that all civilians quartered here are in the service of Zorogoff?” “I am not so sure,” returned Peter. “But why shouldn’t I trust them? What is there wrong—or dangerous about the civilians?” “There are spies among them.” “You mean they are spies for the Ataman?” asked Peter, not taking his eyes from Lutoff’s. Peter was somewhat amused by Lutoff, and was taking considerable delight in beating him about the bush. The whole incident was so Cossack-like, so childishly dramatic. Lutoff shrugged his shoulders. “The Ataman has his spies, of course.” “And perhaps I have talked with some of them,” suggested Peter. “Perhaps. But that is not what I mean. I only warn you to be careful.” “You are very kind,” said Peter. “But have you any particular person in mind?” He wondered if Lutoff could be working along a definite line. “You would be wise to avoid those people you have been talking with,” said Lutoff, and leaned back in his chair to blow smoke rings toward the ceiling, thoughtfully. Peter laughed quietly. “Rather a vague warning,” he said. “I have talked with several persons in the city—just as I am talking with you.” “You know the people I mean,” said Lutoff with some tartness, still gazing at the ceiling. “I appreciate your consideration for me, sir. I assure you I would be glad to follow your advice if you will limit it to the people you evidently have in mind. But so far, what you have said might refer to anybody.” Lutoff looked at the table, twisted a bit of black bread off a slice which lay on a plate, and kneaded the bread into a ball of dough on the cloth. “You have been talking with people in this hotel,” he said presently. “Not many,” said Peter. He was sure now that Lutoff was referring to Vashka and her father, and began to be disquieted. Did Lutoff know anything, or was he merely guessing? Was it possible that a spy of the Ataman had heard the conversations with Vashka and her father? If so, had the spy heard Peter tell his story and his reason for wanting to find Kirsakoff? If the latter was true, it was likely that Kirsakoff already knew of Peter and his purpose, for according to Vashka, Kirsakoff was hand in glove with Zorogoff. Peter was really alarmed now. He wondered if Wassili was to be trusted. He wondered if Vashka was really a spy. He doubted that, for if Lutoff were in the service of Zorogoff, Lutoff would scarcely be warning Peter against Vashka. But the situation was dangerous, Peter knew well.