“Well, this Priemkof, between ourselves,” (and he bent close to the reporter’s ear) “is no better, as a police-guard for Koupriane than Matiew himself.  Very dangerous.  So when I learned that he took Matiew’s place at the datcha des Iles, I thought there was sure to be some unfortunate happening.  But it was no affair of mine, was it?  Koupriane would have been able to say to me, ’Mind your own business.’  I had gone far enough in warning him of the ’living bombs.’  They had been denounced to us by the same agency that enabled us to seize the two living bombs (women, if you please!) who were going to the military tribunal at Cronstadt after the rebellion in the fleet.  Let him recall that.  That ought to make him reflect.  I am a brave man.  I know he speaks ill of me; but I don’t wish him any harm.  The interests of the Empire before all else between us!  I wouldn’t talk to you as I do if I didn’t know the Tsar honors you with his favor.  Then I invited you to dinner.  As one dines one talks.  But you did not come.  And, while you were dining down there and while Priemkof was on guard at the datcha, that annoying affair Madame Gounsovski has spoken about happened.”

Rouletabille had not sat down, in spite of Madame Gounsovski’s insistences.  He took the box of cigars brusquely out of the hand of the Chief of the Secret Service, who had continued tendering them, for this detail of hospitality only annoyed his mood, which had been dark enough for hours and was now deepened by what the other had just said.  He comprehended only one thing, that a man named Priemkof, whom he had never heard spoken of, as determined as Matiew to destroy the general, had been entrusted by Koupriane with the guard of the datcha des Iles.  It was necessary to warn Koupriane instantly.

“How is it that you have not done so already, yourself, Monsieur Gounsovski?  Why wait to speak about it to me?  It is unimaginable.”

“Pardon, pardon,” said Gounsovski, smiling softly behind his goggles; “it is not the same thing.”

“No, no, it is not the same thing,” seconded the lady with the black silk, brilliant jewels and flabby chin.  “We speak here to a friend in the course of dinner-talk, to a friend who is not of the police.  We never denounce anybody.”

“We must tell you.  But sit down now,” Gounsovski still insisted, lighting his cigar.  “Be reasonable.  They have just tried to poison him, so they will take time to breathe before they try something else.  Then, too, this poison makes me think they may have given up the idea of living bombs.  Then, after all, what is to be will be.”

“Yes, yes,” approved the ample dame.  “The police never have been able to prevent what was bound to happen.  But, speaking of this Priemkof, it remains between us, eh?  Between just us?”