"'That is easy,' he smiled. 'It is Kinaitsky. I am equally guilty--more so, for I am not certain whether I have seen you....' he paused as he passed me some cigarettes.
"'At the ---- Hotel in London,' I suggested. He pondered for a moment, observing me intently.
"'It would be as well to give me the details,' he remarked. 'Since you are about to do me a valuable service, I should know to whom I am indebted.'
"I told him. He remained silent for quite a while and I sat enjoying a perfect cigarette and an almost equally perfect glass of wine. At length he said:
"'And I understand that your interest in this lady has led you here?'
"'Oh, no,' I assured him. 'People in my walk of life can't do things like that. It just happens my ship's charter was changed, that is all. You can call it good luck, if you like, or bad.'
"'Pardon,' he said, studying me and feeling in the pocket of his overcoat, 'but I am not clear yet just what your intentions are.'
"'I don't know myself,' I answered, foolishly. 'I must see her first. You understand, she wants to see me, as a friend.' He smiled and became grave again at once.
"'I,' he remarked, stiffly, 'have not seen her since my marriage. I allow her an income, of course. I regard that as a simple duty to those who have been under my protection. I may tell you, Monsieur, that she is quite free to dispose of herself.... But things are very unsettled here, as you may know. I have large interests which involve me in political affairs. This present affair is of that nature. And I may observe that you were good enough to say you recognized the man who escaped in that boat. I am at a loss to understand how this can be, but let that pass. Who was he?'
"'I was talking to him only to-day,' I returned. 'He calls himself Stepan Nikitos, and he told me he wrote articles on internationalism in a paper called the _Phos_. He is the sort of man who would write fluently no doubt on internationalism, for he seems to be an Egyptian Greek with a strain of Armenian in him. Personally, I believed him to be simply a runner for a ship-chandler of whom perhaps you have heard--Captain Macedoine.'
"M. Kinaitsky sat with one arm on the little table between us and regarded me from under sharp black brows with motionless interest. As I mentioned the name of Captain Macedoine he stroked his moustache, and then drew his other hand from his pocket and placed on the table a heavy American revolver.
