rose to go, but was eagerly invited to seat himself again.
"You are going to Russia?"
"Yes."
"It is a strange country if you do not know it. And the Russians are strange people. And to Kieff also! That is most important."
Malcolm did not inquire where the importance lay, and dismissed this as an oblique piece of politeness on the other's part.
"I am afraid I am detaining you, Mr. Kensky. I merely came in to make your acquaintance and shake hands with you," he said, rising, after yet another anxious glance at the clock on the part of his host.
"No, no, no," protested Kensky. "You must forgive me, Mr. Hay, if I seem to be dreaming and I do not entertain you. I am turning over in my mind so many possibilities, so many plans, and I think I have come to the right conclusion. You shall stay, and you shall know. I can rely upon your discretion, can I not?
"Certainly, but"
"I know I can!" said the old man, nodding "And you can help me. I am a stranger in London. Tell me, Mr. Hay, do you know the Café of the Silver Lion?"
The other was staggered by the question.
