He looked at me cunningly, and there was the old sly twinkle in his eyes.
"Not exactly that," said he; "not in the village, nor in the town—nor in Russia."
I began to see his drift, and I could have laughed myself. He knew well that dead men are forgiven quickly. But with the count hounded out of the country, the coast would be clear for him.
"You think, then, that he will go, sir?" I asked.
"He will go in half an hour," he answered quietly, "unless he has a fancy for the bullets of the general's men. They will tear him limb from limb, and not lose much time in the employment. You may look for some of them from Novgorod before the sun sets. And that brings me to the point of it. It is yourself that will see him through to Paris. I've ordered the carriage to be at the priest's house in ten minutes from this time. You will hide him in the bottom of it, and drive to Malo, which is a station on the great Moscow railway. Once you have him in the train, lie is safe. But any way, don't return here, for I'd keep what happens from Miss Marya's ears, at all costs."
"Then I'm to go back to our hotel, sir, whatever happens?"
"Whatever happens," said he; "though I have me doubts that ye'll get through with him."
He said no more beyond finding me money for the journey, and we parted without a handshake. I have always regretted that, for it was the last time I saw
