“True, you have not been talking with many,” said Lutoff. “But those with whom you have been talking—they are not safe for you.” “That is quite possible,” said Peter, smiling. “Almost any one here is dangerous to a stranger. You see, when it comes to that, I am most discreet with you, Mr. Lutoff.” Lutoff bowed his head slightly. “You compliment me. But I am not trying to mystify you or to frighten you. When a man comes and warns you, you cannot very well say he is a menace to you.” “No,” said Peter. “But your warning is vague. If it is to be of any value to me—who are the people you warn me against?” “I speak of the old man—and the girl,” said Lutoff abruptly, and lifted his eyes to Peter’s. “The old man and the girl!” repeated Peter, with an amazement which was well feigned. “Here in the hotel? I am not sure that I know whom you mean.” “And I am sure that you do,” shot back Lutoff. He had dropped his polite indirectness and was ready to argue with Peter—almost ready, it appeared, to dictate to Peter on whom he should talk with in the hotel or the city. “Then you know what you know,” said Peter calmly. “But I cannot be sure what you know, unless you tell me, thus I cannot be sure that you speak as a friend. First, if I am to consider your advice, you must give me some assurance that you have knowledge of whom I have been talking with—otherwise, my friend, you are seeking information rather than giving it.” He had no intention of being trapped into admitting that he had been talking with Vashka and her father. The Ataman and Kirsakoff might suspect what they liked, but Peter was not going to tell Lutoff anything. “These people are hiding here in the hotel,” said Lutoff, resuming his kneading of the brown dough on the tablecloth. “Hiding?” “Yes.” “From the Ataman?” asked Peter. Lutoff looked up with an angry grimace, and Peter knew that he had put one shot home. He had revealed some knowledge of the Ataman’s tactics, and he had satisfied himself that Vashka and her father were telling the truth. He had put Lutoff into something of a hole, which the Cossack might find it difficult to get clear of again. “You had better keep your hands off this matter,” warned Lutoff. “Oh, is that it?” asked Peter. “Then this is a warning about listening to people who have something to say about the Ataman, is it?” “You may judge for yourself,” replied Lutoff. “I already have,” said Peter, suavely. “I judge that you are not warning me so much against certain people, as that you are warning me to beware of the Ataman Zorogoff.” “If I were you, I would not mix in political matters in this city, Mr. Gordon.” “You must remember that you are talking to an American officer,” said Peter. “Am I to understand that an officer of the Ataman Zorogoff tells me what I should do or should not do in Chita?” “I think the Americans wish to avoid trouble with the Ataman,” said Lutoff, with a bland smile.