erful polygamist
like Kinaitsky was entertaining. He looked down between his knees,
presenting the crown of his greasy _tarbush_ at my breast as though he
were about to butt me. He mumbled something. It was so preposterous I
pretended I had misunderstood him.

"'Oh, come!' I said. 'You must be joking. You can't interfere with
anybody like that. She has a right to do as she pleases. Why bother
about her? I happen to know she is very happy.'

"He looked up at me sharply, and pulled his mouth to one side as though
he were making a face at me.

"'Happy?' he echoed. '_You_ know? Then it is with you.... It explains
all those English clothes she had when I saw her at the White Tower. She
was in a box with the family who live next door. Madame Sarafov....' He
stared at me with his mouth fallen open, his whole body motionless. He
gave me the impression of a man perched upon a perilous precipice,
uncertain whether the next movement would plunge him to destruction.

"'No,' I said, shaking my head, 'you are making a mistake. But I know.'
He moved slightly, leaning forward.

"'You know where she lives?' he muttered. 'This place where she is very
happy?'

"'No, I can't say I do,' I replied. 'You can hardly expect me to tell
you, either, even if I knew, after what you said just now. Of course,' I
went on, 'you spoke in hyperbole, but it would be scarcely the act of a
gentleman to distress a woman by forcing yourself upon her.'

"'Hyperbole?' he repeated, staring at me as though fascinated.
'Gentleman ... distress?... she gave the Sarafov girl some English
clothes. I never imagined for a moment.... Incredible _denouement_.' He
looked suddenly discouraged. 'Then you have her in England.' A gleam of
understanding came into his eyes. 'You have brought her back here?
Well, do you know what she will do, now you have finished with her? She
will----'

"He stopped as I put up my hand. I said 'She is not my mistress, I tell
you.' He brought his hand down with a crash on the table, so that the
glasses jumped and the ink-bottle slipped off and emptied itself on the
floor. One or two people looked at him, but most of the excitement
centred round the robust person with the silver star, whose speech was
being applauded with a tremendous amount of guttural approval. Nikitos
stood up, towering over me in a threatening manner.

"'Then who took her from me?' he snarled, 'who gave her the English
clothes? You....' He sat down again and held up