The first thing Fred did was to switch on the light of his torch and
inspect the warren in which he had found sanctuary. It was not at all
the musty, bad smelling place he had expected it to be. The walls had
been plastered and stained a dull grey, which did not reflect the light
from his torch appreciably. The arrows appeared, as Boris had said they
did, at frequent intervals.
"Not much of a secret." That was Fred's first thought. "But it needn't
be. The men who worked in here are the ones the family can trust
absolutely, I suppose."
It gave Fred a certain thrill to feel himself in touch with such things,
to know that he belonged to such a family as the Suvaroffs, capable of
inspiring such devotion in its retainers--which, though Boris regarded
it as a matter of course, seemed a great thing to Fred, with his
American upbringing.
"What a piece of luck!" he reflected. "Imagine my stumbling on such a
splendid fellow as Boris! If it hadn't been for all this trouble, I
might never have known I had a cousin! And he's the sort of cousin I
call worth having! He amounts to something--and I don't believe he's as
old as I am.
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