The cold spring rain of Saint Petersburg kept drumming against Fox's carriage. Every muffled pfft-pfft made the irritation in his heart grow heavier.
His assistant could no longer bear the oppressive atmosphere and cautiously tried to start a conversation. "Sir, we did not come away empty-handed this time. Ah, for instance, we learned that the Russians are gathering supplies on a massive scale..."
Fox cut him off with a dark expression. "They are going to war with the Ottoman Empire. That is something every Tsar does. Are you planning to use that to account for yourself to the Prime Minister?"
The assistant shrank back and did not dare make another sound.
Just then, the carriage suddenly slowed. An attendant riding alongside knocked on the window and pointed to a black carriage in the curtain of rain. "Sir, someone over there says he wants to see you."
A moment later, when the man outside folded up his umbrella, Fox's face immediately showed surprise. "Count Zubov? Oh, quickly, come in." He then shot his assistant a look, and the latter hurriedly rose and got out.
The carriage set off again.
Fox pushed a cup of hot tea toward Count Zubov. "It truly is rather unexpected to meet you here."
"I have been waiting for you for some time." Zubov wiped the rain from his face with a handkerchief and picked up the teacup. "Oh, this warms me up considerably. You have saved my life.
"In return, allow me to tell you something."
Fox knew that waiting in the rain outside Saint Petersburg meant Zubov must have something important to say, and he leaned forward slightly. "I am very eager to hear it." "Do you know where the oats, tents, gunpowder, and the like from Moscow and Novgorod have been transported these past