"You will wait," he said.
"What insolence is this?" she demanded haughtily. "I had a letter from Israel Kensky telling me to come here under his protection and I should learn the truth of the plot against my father."
Serganofi had recovered something of his self-possession and laughed softly.
"It was I who sent you that letter, Irene, I sent it because I particularly desired you here at this moment."
"You shall pay for this," she said, and tried to force her way past him, but his strong hands gripped her and pushed her back.
She turned with a flaming face upon the men.
"Are you men," she asked, "that you allow this villain, who betrayed my father and will betray you, to treat a woman so."
She spoke in Russian, and nobody moved. Then a voice said:
"Speak English, miss."
She turned and glanced gratefully at the stout little man with his grotesque Derby hat and his good-humoured smile.
"I have been brought here by a trick," she said breathlessly, "by this man"—she pointed to Serganoff. "Will you help me leave? You're English, aren't you?"
