ust put it that
way."
"Eh? The life of General Trebassof! You speak as if it belonged to you,
as if you could dispose of it."
Rouletabille laid his hand on Koupriane's arm.
"Perhaps that's so," said he.
"Would you like me to tell you one thing, Monsieur Rouletabille? It is
that General Trebassof's life, after what has just escaped the lips of
this Touman, who is not Touman, isn't worth any more than--than yours if
you remain here. Since you are disposed not to do anything more in this
affair, take the train, monsieur, take the train, and go."
Rouletabille walked back and forth, very much worked up; then suddenly
he stopped short.
"Impossible," he said. "It is impossible. I cannot; I am not able to go
yet."
"Why?"
"Good God, Monsieur Koupriane, because I have to interview the President
of the Duma yet, and complete my little inquiry into the politics of the
cadets."
"Oh, indeed!"
Koupriane looked at him with a sour grin.
"What are you going to do with that man?" demanded Rouletabille.
"Have him fixed up first."
"And then?"
"Then take him before the judges."
"That is to say, to the gallows?"
"Certainly."
"Monsieur Koupriane, I offer it to you again. Life for life. Give me the
life of that poor devil and I promise you General Trebassof's."
"Explain yourself."
"Not at all. Do you promise me that you will maintain silence about the
case of that man and that you will not touch a hair of his head?"
Koupriane looked at Rouletabille as he had looked at him during the
altercation they had on the edge of the Gulf. He decided the same way
this time.
"Very well," said he. "You have my word. The poor devil!"
"You are a brave man, Monsieur Koupriane, but a little quick with the
whip..."
"What would you expect? One's work teaches that."
"Good morning. No, don't trouble to show me out. I am compromised enough
already," said Rouletabille, laughing.
"Au revoir, and good luck! Get to work interviewing the President of the
Duma," added Koupriane knowingly, with a great laugh.
But Rouletabille was already gone.
"That lad," said the Chief of Police aloud to himself, "hasn't told me a
bit of what he knows."
IX. ANNOUCHKA
"And now it's between us two, Natacha," murmured Rouletabille as soon
as he was outside. He hailed the first carriage that passed and gave the
address of the datcha des Iles. When he got in he held his head between
his hands; his face burned, his ja
|