“An _iswostchik_ told me,” began Wassili. “His father was in the Siberian Rifles with mine and I can trust his word. He told me that he drove an American officer to the Dauria—two days ago. If the American officer is there now, I cannot say. But there is none among the _iswostchiks_ who has taken him back to the station. That I know, for I asked many of them—and they would know if the stranger had been taken away.” “Thanks to God!” cried Katerin. “Then though poor Ilya is dead, there is still hope for us. We must pray that he spoke the truth. Tell us more, Wassili.” “It came about this way,” resumed Wassili. “I heard my friend boasting of how he had brought a rich American to the Dauria—this officer—and how he paid double fare in Imperial rubles without any complaint. Not knowing what was the right fare, and not knowing that Imperials are worth thrice the money now in this city prove him to be a stranger. That he was an American, my friend is sure, for he was in Vladivostok last month and smuggled opium in here for the Chinese when he came up by the train. Why, he even knows the Americans so well that he speaks American. He cannot be fooled—he got rich in Vladivostok changing money for Americans.” “But does the American seek us?” urged Katerin. She was anxious to establish the fact that the American had come to help them escape the Ataman. “I heard nothing of that, mistress,” replied Wassili. Michael pondered the matter carefully. “It all means no good for us,” he said finally. “This officer may have sent Ilya to us, but why was Ilya shot? I say it looks like a trap.” “But Zorogoff’s spies may have known that the American sent Ilya, and may have killed Ilya so no word could go back from us,” said Katerin. “I grant that, yes,” said Michael, but still he had his doubts, and shook his head sadly. “And if Zorogoff knows that an American officer has come, then the Ataman will not dare persecute us further. Did you hear the name of this American, Wassili?” asked Katerin. “Mistress, I know nothing more. I did not dare go to the hotel when I heard that Ilya had been killed, but came back here for the orders of Excellence.” “And that was right,” said Michael. “Shall I go now to the American officer, master?” asked Wassili. “Let me think on it,” said Michael. “They killed Ilya and they may also kill you. It is dangerous business and we must be cautious. If it is true that an American has come, then the Ataman will do one of two things—strike speedily or leave us in peace. I believe that he will destroy us. I wish my wits were equal to telling me what I should do.” “We must not leave it to the Ataman,” declared Katerin. “The time has come for us to make our decisions—we it is who must act and not wait for the Ataman to make up his mind.” “We! What do you mean, my daughter? What is it we can do?” “Do something before the Ataman returns.” “What? What is it we can do, surrounded as we are?”