He wondered whether it would be Akatui, or the mines, for him. It was
no use to try and delude himself that he could escape the police.
He had got out of Russia by the skin of his teeth last time, and, even
if he managed to get his despatches safely delivered, there would be a
raid on the newspaper office, an arrest in the street. Of course there
was always the hope that he might come in for a chance shot in a
scrimmage, but that was too much luck to expect.
He had nothing to wait for now after what he had heard to-night, and
the sooner he put himself out of the way, the better. He would
volunteer at once for the St. Petersburg mission. The usual custom was
to cast lots, unless some enthusiast begged for the privilege of a
speedy doom. By virtue of his long service he had a right to claim
that privilege.
If he could go to-morrow so much the better. After what Arithelli had
confessed it would be dangerous for them both if he stayed. For a
moment the primaeval man in him leapt up, telling him that he had only
to pit himself against Vardri, and the victory would be assuredly his
own.
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