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"You are troubled with a poor memory, sir." "Yes; concerning the names of friends who have assisted me when they have been compelled to place their own interests in jeopardy in order to do so." "Do you know Alexis Saberevski?" "I do." "Can you tell me where he is now?" "In New York, I think."
Alexis Saberevski and I had many such conversations as that one, after that, in which we discussed pro and con the suggestion he had made. It grew upon me and grew upon me until I became obsessed by the idea although I did not think that he guessed my eagerness.
When I look at you, Zara, I wish that I were young again, and that I might throw duty to the winds and enter the list against all others who seek you." An expression of annoyance, as fleeting as it was certain, came into her eyes, and she replied with a little show of impatience: "Spare me that sort of thing, Saberevski.
Alexis Saberevski leaned forward in his chair to secure another of the cigarettes, and having lighted it with studied deliberation, resumed his former position gazing between half closed eyelids toward Princess Zara.
She did not know, then, that the other tall figure of a man was the one into whose arms she was fleeing, even though she left him there, unknown, upon that North river wharf, while she sailed away to the other side of the world. And he could foresee as little. But such is Fate. I had known Alexis Saberevski in St. Petersburg; I had known him again in Paris.
Evidently Saberevski entertained something of this view himself, although from the standpoint of a Russian, for he ended a short silence between us by saying: "I have not finished what I was going to tell you, Dan. I have served Alexander, the czar, many years, and served him faithfully. There are reasons now why I can serve him no longer, in the capacity and at the places where he needs me most.
The abrupt mention of Alexis Saberevski, coupled with other insinuations already brought forward in our conversation, confirmed me in the idea already half formed, that my apparent arrest at the hotel, my strange and mysterious journey through the night, and the threat of Siberia, were all in the nature of what we Americans call a "bluff"; were only intended to conceal the real purpose of this enforced interview.
"You seem to have tired of it yourself, Saberevski." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his chair, and the suggestion of a shadow passed across his handsome face. "Dan," he said with an entire change of tone that startled me into renewed interest, "I haven't any doubt that you have always regarded me as a queer sort of chap, more or less shrouded by a mystery you could not fathom.
"You know what my life is, even though you have been absent from home almost a year." "Yes," he said, smiling, "one round of pleasures, and of conquest. Adorers waiting for you on every hand; lovers perhaps " "No; not lovers," she interrupted him. "There is no place for them, Saberevski," and a shade of sadness which he attributed to the memory of Stanislaus, clouded her eyes for a moment.
The fact had not interested me, but recalling at the instant the idea that she was most likely known to my friend, I said: "Saberevski, one of your countrywomen, a princess whose name escapes me for I did not notice it particularly, arrived in the city this morning, and is at one of the hotels. I mention it because you may not have seen the notice, and might like to pay your respects to her.
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