said Kensky earnestly. "I shall feel safer in my mind."
She nodded, and led the way down the stairs. They turned out of the garden into the street and did not speak a word. Presently the girl said in English:
"You must think we Russian people are barbarians, Mr."
"Hay," suggested Malcolm.
"Mr. Hay. That is Scottish, isn't it? Tell me, do you think we are uncivilized?"
"No, Your Highness," stammered Malcolm. "How can I think that?"
They walked on until they came in sight of the tail lights of the car, and then she stopped.
"You must not come any farther," she said. "You can stand here and watch me go. Do you know any more than Israel Kensky told?" she asked, a little anxiously.
"Nothing," he replied in truth.
She offered her hand, and he bent over it.
"Good night, Mr. Hay. Do not forget, I must see you in Kieff."
He watched the red lights of the car disappear and walked quickly back to old Kensky's rooms. Russia and his appointment had a new fascination.
