“Another opportunity would be a social upheaval,” said the Russian, drumming on the table with his slim fingers.  “The time has not come for that yet.  A third alternative is a mishap to a crowned head—­and that we can offer to you.”

Kosmaroff moved impatiently.

“Is that all?” he exclaimed.  “I have heard that talk for the last ten years.  Have you brought me across Europe to talk of that?”

The Russian looked at him calmly, stroking his thin, black mustache, and waited till he had finished speaking.

“Yes—­that is all I have to propose to you—­but this time it is more than talk.  You may take my word for that.  This time we shall all succeed.  But, of course, we want money, as usual.  Ah! what a different world this would be if the poor could only be rich for one hour.  We want five thousand roubles.  I understand you have control of ten times that amount.  If Poland will advance us five thousand roubles she shall have her opportunity—­and a good one—­in a month from now.”

He held up his hand to command silence, for Kosmaroff, with eyes that suddenly blazed in anger, had stepped forward to the table, and was about to interrupt.  And Kosmaroff, who was not given to obedience, paused, he knew not why.

“Think,” said the other, in his smooth, even voice—­“one month from now, after waiting twenty years.  In a month you yourself may be in a very different position to that you now occupy.  You commit yourselves to nothing.  You do not even give ground for the conclusion that the Polish party ever for a moment approved of our methods.  Our methods are our own affair, as are the risks we are content to run.  We have our reasons, and we seek the approval of no man.”

There was a deadly coldness in the man’s manner which seemed to vouch for the validity of those reasons which he did not submit to the judgment of any.

“Five thousand roubles,” he concluded.  “And in exchange I give you the date—­so that Poland may be ready.”

“Thank you,” said Kosmaroff, who had regained his composure as suddenly as he had lost it.  “I decline—­for myself and for the whole of Poland.  We play a cleaner game than that.”

He turned and took up his hat, and his hand shook as he did it.

“If I did not know that you are a patriot according to your lights—­if I did not know something of your story, and of those reasons that you do not give—­I should take you by the throat and throw you out into the street for daring to make such a proposal to me,” he said, in a low voice.

“To a deserter from a Cossack regiment,” suggested the other.

“To me,” repeated Kosmaroff, touching himself on the breast and standing at his full height.  No one spoke, as if the silent spell of History were again for a moment laid upon their tongues.

“Captain Cable,” said Kosmaroff, “you and I have met before, and I learned enough of you then to tell you now that this is no place for you, and these men no company for you.  I am going—­will you come?”