He produced a crumpled piece of newspaper which contained a little tobacco, and rolled a cigarette thoughtfully.

"It is bad enough," he repeated as he began to smoke.
"It would have been very easy to get away, if you had done like that brute of a Schmidt who ran away and left us." "I do not think Schmidt is a brute," observed the other, blowing a huge ring of white smoke out into the dusk.
"I did not think so either.

But I had arranged it all very well for you to get away--only you would not.

You see, by an accident, the key was outside the door, so I kicked the people back and locked it.

It would have taken a quarter of an hour for them to open it, and if you had only jumped--" He turned his head, and glanced at the Count's spare, sinewy figure.
"You are light, too," he continued, "and you could not have hurt yourself.
I cannot understand why you stayed." "Dumnoff, my friend," said the Count, gravely, "we look at things in a different way.