Among other plans, Michael had thought of getting a droshky or a sledge and attempting to dash through fog or darkness, down the line of the railroad to the Manchurian border. He thought it might be possible to get into some Manchurian city, or to board a train bound toward Vladivostok at some point along the railroad which was outside the zone controlled by Zorogoff. But while it might be possible to get through the cordons of Cossacks around the city, either by eluding them or bribing them, Michael knew that he might be betrayed before leaving the house at all. To carry out such a plan, it would be necessary to take a droshky driver into confidence, and though he might accept a large sum in payment, he might also betray Michael. For Zorogoff’s spies were everywhere. Then it was that Captain Shimilin returned to the house where the Kirsakoffs were concealed. His soldiers came pounding at the gate of the courtyard one day just before noon, and the Cossack captain once more faced Michael and Katerin in the room with the blue carpet, the silver samovar, and the battered candelabra. Shimilin was frankly arrogant now, and he looked at Katerin with an air of bold assurance that, no matter what she might say, it would be of no avail to her. His pair of Mongol soldiers came with him, their eyes hungrier than ever for the things in the room. Katerin involuntarily pulled her sable coat closer about her when she saw the greedy gaze of the precious pair upon it. She had decided to be outwardly gracious as long as she could. But she was ready to stand out against the demands of the Ataman, as expressed by Shimilin, as long as she could, and then abide by the consequences. Shimilin entered without a word, threw off his coat, and lighted a cigarette. It was plain that his course of action was settled, and that he knew perfectly what he would do from first to last. And his air indicated that he would stand no trifling. Michael sat by the table. He had been playing at solitaire when Shimilin arrived, and the cards were still spread out on the board. Katerin had agreed with her father that she should handle the situation, for the old man might be trapped by Shimilin into saying something which would be used by the Cossack as an excuse for arresting the old general. Zorogoff had his own methods for giving a tinge of legitimacy to his unwarranted actions and justifying himself in the eyes of his soldiers. And Shimilin knew what Zorogoff demanded now. “And what have you come for this time?” asked Katerin, as Shimilin continued to sit silently and smoke his cigarette. “The Ataman will take no more excuses,” said Shimilin. “I talked with him about you and your father, but he would heed neither me nor your protests that you have no money for him.” “You mean that the Ataman expects us to provide a fortune for him? And that having taken all we possess, you come back wanting more money?” demanded Katerin.