CHAPTER XXI
A FORLORN HOPEThey were a craven crew,--bold enough when arrayed in their numbers against two men and one helpless girl, but terror-stricken at these fresh tidings.
That was my opinion of them at the time, but perhaps it was unjust. Every man who attended that meeting had done so at the deliberate risk of his life and liberty. Most of them had undoubtedly tramped the whole way to the rendezvous, through the storm and swelter of the summer night, and they were fatigued and unstrung. Also, the Russian--and especially the revolutionary Russian--is a queer psychological amalgam. Ordinarily as callous and stoical as a c******n in the infliction or endurance of death or torture, he is yet a bundle of high-strung nerves, and at any moment his cool cynicism is liable to give place to
