No one seemed disposed to avail himself of this invitation.

"And there is ammunition enough," continued Kosmaroff, "to close the
account of every Muscovite in Warsaw!"

His voice vibrated as he spoke, with the cold and steady hatred of the
conquered; but on his face there only rested the twisted smile.

"I tell you this," he went on, "because I am likely to go to Cracow
before long, and so that you may know what is expected of you. Certain
events may be taken beforehand as a sure signal for assembly--such as
the death of either emperor, of the King of Prussia, or of Bismarck, the
declaration of war by any of the great powers. There is always something
seething on the Indian frontier, and one day the English will awake.
The Warsaw papers will not have the news; but the _Czas_ and the other
Cracow journals will tell you soon enough, and you can all see the
Galician papers when you want to, despite their censors and their
police!"

A contemptuous laugh from the fat man confirmed this statement. This was
his department. In many men cunning takes the place of courage.

At this moment the steam-whistle of the iron-works farther up the river
boomed out across the plain. The bells of the city churches broke out
into a clanging unanimity as to the time of day, and all the workers
stirred reluctantly. The dinner-hour was over.

Kosmaroff rose to his feet and stretched himself--a long, lithe, wiry
figure.