The General lowered his head approvingly.

"Precisely."

Then to the Prince, explaining courteously--

"We want that bird alive. It will be the devil if we can't make him sing
a little before we are done with him."

The grave-like silence of the room with its mute clock fell upon the
polite modulations of this terrible phrase. The Prince, hidden in the
chair, made no sound.

The General unexpectedly developed a thought.

"Fidelity to menaced institutions on which depend the safety of a
throne and of a people is no child's play. We know that, _mon Prince,_
and--_tenez_--" he went on with a sort of flattering harshness, "Mr.
Razumov here begins to understand that too."

His eyes which he turned upon Razumov seemed to be starting out of his
head. This grotesqueness of aspect no longer shocked Razumov. He said
with gloomy conviction--

"Haldin will never speak."

"That remains to be seen," muttered the General.

"I am certain," insisted Razumov. "A man like this never speaks....