Cards on the Table
Edith, watching him prayerfully, felt her heart sink. He was her champion, and fighting against great odds.
"I think—not."
"Ah. That is too bad. You have given me a good trump." He grinned, once more enjoying himself. "You are worth more to me alive than dead. And so is Miss Rand. Do you think your assassin friends will attack the tower with the two of you helpless in my hands?"
The lines in Donovan's lean face deepened. "I don't think—I know it."
"Even if they are led to believe I will kill the woman when they attack?"
"It would not change their purpose." Donovan flung out an eloquent hand. "Don't you see, man! Those Sayaks will come, in spite of everything. The Kurgan will be a shambles. That is why I came here On the chance that you, who were once a Russian nobleman, would have enough vestige of honor to spare her that. It doesn't matter, you know, what you do with me if you will release her."
Monsey relished his distress. He stepped back, still fingering his heavy revolver.
"Oh, I don't intend to play the saint—now." He hesitated, as if wishing to say more. Then his eyes gleamed and he smiled. "Besides, I can't afford to."
Edith glanced at him inquiringly. She had been aroused by the scene at the table, where Monsey's character was laid bare brutally. Even now, she could not believe that Donovan was powerless against the men of the Kurgan.
"Mr. Rand and Major Fraser-Carnie are approaching these hills," said Monsey agreeably. "They have an escort of a half-troop of one of the native English
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