The Chronicles of Michael Danevitch of the Russian Secret Service (2024)

JAMES EDWARD MUDDOCK
(WRITING AS DICK DONOVAN)

Published in one volume with
The Clue of the Dead Hand,
Chatto & Windus, London, 1897

This e-book edition: Roy Glashan's Library, 2019
Version Date: 2019-02-05
Produced by Roy Glashan

Only the original raw text of this book is in the public domain.
All content added by RGL is proprietary and protected by copyright.

Click here for more books by this author

BIBLIOGRAPHIC NOTE

THE transliteration of Russian words and namesin the print edition of The Chronicles of MichaelDanevitch is inconsistent and, in some cases, incorrect. Forthe most part, the author uses the French forms, which made theirway into English literature via French translations of Russianbooks and differ considerably from those of the modern Anglo-American transliteration system. Correct French forms that werecurrent when the book was published (1897) have been leftunchanged in the present e-book edition. The print edition alsocontains several erroneous transliterations. I have correctedthese and, where necessary, have added an explanatory note.

— Roy Glashan, 05 February 2019.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

A YEAR or two before the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War a daring attempt was made upon the life of theEmperor of Russia. He had been out shooting in the neighbourhoodof St. Petersburg, and was returning at dusk in company withnumerous friends and a large suite. As the Royal carriage passedan isolated house on a country road, which was bordered on eachside by a dense pine forest, a bomb was hurled from an upperwindow of the house. Fortunately it did not strike the carriage,as was intended, but, going over it, fell between the horses oftwo of the Royal Guard. The horses were blown to pieces, theriders were killed on the spot, and several other men were moreor less injured. For some minutes a panic ensued. The Emperor'sdriver whipped his horses into a gallop, and everybody seemed ata loss what to do. The house, however, was soon surrounded, and aman and woman were seized as they were in the very act ofofescaping.

It was soon made evident that this man and woman were meretools, and the arch-conspirators had availed them­selves of theconfusion caused by the bursting bomb to get off. Darknessfavoured the fugitives, and though the forest was scoured theywere not captured. Subsequent investigation brought to light thatthe plot for the Emperor's taking off had been the work chieflyof a daring and notorious Nihilist, whose capture the RussianGovernment had long been trying to effect. His connection withthis dastardly attempt caused a heavy price to be set upon hishead, and every effort was made to arrest him. But, extraordinaryas it seems, he succeeded in evading his pursuers, and, altertravelling many hundreds of miles through the country in variousdisguises, he managed to get on board of a vessel bound toConstantinople—so much of his flight was subsequentlylearnt when it was too late; but at Constantinople all trace ofhim was lost, though there was reason to believe that he hadescaped to either France or England, and a large staff of themost able Russian and Polish detectives were sent out to scourEurope.

One winter night of that memorable year, I was on my way fromParis to London via Calais. It had been a wild and stormy day; ahigh wind, bitter cold, snow, sleet, hail, rain—such werethe atmospheric conditions. We had had an assortment of the worstsamples of weather, and as night approached it was only tooevident we were in for 'a buster.' There were very few passengersby the night train from Paris. It was not a night when anyone waslikely to be travelling for pleasure. On our reaching CalaisStation the wind had attained the force of a heavy gale, causinga tremendous sea to run in the Channel, and we who were pressedfor time heard with dismay that the boat was not likely toattempt the crossing before the morning.

The cramped and starved passengers made a rush for the buffet,but I had to see the guard of the train, owing to a hand-bag ofmine having gone astray. This bit of business occupied me forquite twenty minutes, and then, almost frozen to the marrow, Imade my way to the buffet. The large stove in the centre of theroom was surrounded by the passengers, so I seated myself at oneof the long tables and called for hot soup. It was not until Ihad finished the steaming bouillon, and had begun to thaw, that Ibecame conscious I had a vis-à-vis. On the opposite sideof the table, on the carpeted settee in a corner next to thewall, sat a man with his legs upon the settee, his arms folded onhis breast. The place was lighted by lamps. The light was dim,and the man was in partial shadow, but I noted that he wore aheavy fur coat, he had a peak-less fur cap on his head, and waspuffing away at a long and strong cigar. At his elbow on thetable was a large basin of tea, and floating in the tea werethree or four slices of lemon.

I really don't know how it was that I was suddenly attractedto this stranger. Some people may try to explain it by saying itwas animal magnetism, odic force, or something of the kind. Ishall offer no explanation myself; I merely state the bare fact.My eyes having got accustomed to the semi-gloom, I was enabled toobserve that he had a clean-shaven face, with a rather prominentnose, a clean-cut mouth, which, taken in connection with theformation of the chin and jaw generally, indicated an iron will,a dogged determination. It was altogether a very striking face,full of character, and with points that removed it far from thecategory of the common-place.

Having partaken of the rest of my supper, and feeling morecomfortable and cheerful, I lit a cigar, called for coffee and apetit verre, assumed an easier position at the end of theseat, so that I was enabled to lean my back against the wall, myshoulders being thus parallel with the strangers, the tableseparating us; then I spoke to him in French—made someordinary remarks about the weather, and expressed a fear that wewere doomed to pass the night there in the buffet. He answered mevery affably, and in a rich, well-modulated voice. Fancying thatI detected a foreign accent in his French, I politely asked himif he was a Frenchman. He smiled pleasantly, and expressed a wishto know why I doubted his being French. I told him frankly,whereupon he laughed again, and in perfect English, except thatit betrayed a foreign tongue in its pronunciation, he said:

'I guess you are an Englishman?'

I admitted that I was, and we chatted away first in French andthen in English for a long time; we exchanged cigars; he drankwith me, I with him. Now, throughout the conversation there wasone thing I was conscious of —the whole drift of his talkwas to elicit information. This was done so delicately andskilfully that the majority of people would not have been awareof it. But I was. It was part of my business to know when I wasbeing pumped, to use a vulgar but expressive phrase; I was also,even as he was, a seeker after knowledge, and I fancy I framed myquestions perhaps not much less skilfully than he. At any rate,we seemed to become en rapport, and it is safe to say weinterested each other. There was a reciprocal attraction betweenus. After a time the conversation flagged; tired nature wasovercome, and we slept where we sat. At about seven in themorning a porter with stentorian lungs came in and aroused usfrom our uneasy slumber by bawling out that we were all to get onboard the boat, as she was about to start. Confusion at oncereigned; there was a hasty gathering up of bags, wraps, rugs, andother impedimenta, and a stampede was made for the steamer, eachman trying to be first, in order that he might secure the bestplace in view of the stormy passage we were likely to have. Formyself, I went leisurely; I was too case-hardened a traveller byland and sea to concern myself even about the Channel in itsanger. I had, in the confusion, lost sight of my acquaintance ofthe night, and for the moment had forgotten him, when suddenly Iheard his voice behind me. He had caught me up.

'You, like me, don't give yourself much concern,' he remarked.'We shall have a rough crossing, no doubt, but it doesn't alarmme; I have been sodden with salt water too often.'

This struck a keynote again; we passed on board. As we reachedthe deck, he asked me if I was going below; I said no, Ipreferred to remain on deck. So did he. We therefore secured twocamp-stools, placed them so that we sat with our backs to thefunnel for the sake of the warmth, enveloped our knees in rugs,buttoned up our coats, battened our caps down, and made ourselvesas snug as it was possible to do under the circ*mstances.

It was a wild and wicked morning, and still very dark, thoughin the far east there was an angry gleam of glary light. Thecrossing was a rough one—as rough a one as I ever rememberto have experienced. When we reached Dover we were all bedraggledand weary-looking, and thankful indeed for the hot coffee thatwas served out to us at the refreshment-bar. It was now broaddaylight, and for the first time I was enabled to distinctly seemy companion's face. It was altogether a remarkable face. A morepliable and mobile one I never saw. It never seemed to be quitealike for five minutes at a time. His eyes were small, but with,as it seemed, an almost unnatural brilliancy; and there was asuggestiveness about them that they were looking von through andthrough. His complexion was olive; his eyes were black. Instature he was about the middle height, with a well-knit frame. Inoted that his hands and wrists indicated great muscularstrength. He trod with a firm step; he walked upright; he was aman whose presence asserted itself. None but a fool would belikely to overlook him even in a crowd. There is one other thingI must mention: his manner was that of an exceedingly well-bredman; he was the pink of politeness.

The 'something'—call it by what name you will—thathad drawn us together, kept us together, and we became the soleoccupants of a first-class compartment, in which we journeyed toLondon. Long before our destination was reached, I had made up mymind that my compagnon de voyage was no ordinary man, andfrom certain things I made a guess at his profession, and wishingto put my opinion to the test, I alluded to the attempt that hadbeen made some time before on the Czar's life. At this his evestransfixed me, as it were. Question and answer followed, and atlast, when I was sure that I should not make any mistake, I ledhim to understand that my visit to France had indirectly been inconnection with the crime in Russia. When we reached London, Ifound he was going to stay at a hotel close to Trafalgar Square.I gave him my card. He gave me his, which simply bore the nameMichael Danevitch.

I knew then from the name that I had formed the acquaintanceof one of the foremost detectives in the world—a man whohad had more to do with unravelling political crimes than anyliving being; and there was hardly a civilized Government thathad not, at some time or other, availed itself of his services.He was endowed with wonderful gifts, and having once got on tothe track of a criminal the criminal was to a certainty doomed.Danevitch's visit to England on this occasion was in connectionwith the attempt on the Czar's life. He ultimately succeeded inunearthing one of the criminals in London, and though the EnglishGovernment would not give the rascal up, Danevitch lured him toFrance by a wonderfully clever ruse. There he was arrested; indue course the French handed him over to Russia, and he expiatedhis wickedness on the scaffold. The story of this thrillingcapture will be told in the course of this series. Theacquaintance which I struck up with Danevitch on that ever-to-be-remembered night ripened into a very warm friendship, whichcontinued for many years. The result was he promised me that ifhe predeceased me he would leave me all his notes and papers thathad any reference to his professional career, and give me fullpermission to do what I liked with them. Subsequently he was in aterrible railway accident in Russia: the train by which he wastravelling came into collision with another train, and there wasan awful smash. Poor Danevitch was so injured that both his legshad to be amputated. For several weeks he seemed to be doingwell, but a change took place, and he realized that his fate wassealed. He sent for me, and during the fortnight that passedafter my arrival he told me his history to a large extent, andhanded me the promised records of the extraordinary cases inwhich he had played so important a part. It is from these recordsthat I now compile this series of stories.

I. — THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF AMILLION ROUBLES.

ONE evening, towards the end of summer, fourGovernment officials left Moscow for St. Petersburg in charge ofan enormous amount of money, partly in specie, but for the mostpart in Russian rouble notes. The money was consigned to theTreasury in St. Petersburg. All the officials had been in theGovernment service for a long time, and were selected for thisspecial duty on account of their trustworthiness and theconfidence reposed in them by the heads of the department towhich they belonged. The oldest man, and the one in command ofthe little party, was upwards of seventy years of age. He hadbeen in the Government service for forty years, and was greatlytrusted and respected. His name was Popoff. The next in senioritywas Ivan Basilovitch, who had been thirty-three years in theservice. Then came Stroganoff, with twenty-eight years ofservice, and lastly a young man named Briazga, with ten years anda half to his credit in the service of the Government. Inaddition to these four Government officers, four gendarmes, fullyarmed, accompanied the treasure as a guard of safety. The partytravelled by the ordinary train, but had a special salooncarriage, the packages of money being placed at one end. The onlydoors to the carriage were at the opposite end, one on each side,the offside door being locked by means of a secret lock, whichcould not be opened except with the proper key.

The bullion was carried in oak boxes fastened with iron bands.The notes were in small square boxes, sewn up in strong canvas.In addition they were securely corded with fine butextraordinarily tough cord, which was made especially for theGovernment, and could not be used except for Government purposes.Every package bore the State seal. Anyone unlawfully breaking theseal was guilty, according to the law of Russia, of treason, andliable to death or banishment to Siberia. In due course the trainreached St. Petersburg, where the packages of money wereexamined, counted in the train, and found correct. They were thenloaded into a covered Government waggon, counted and examinedagain, and also found correct; and all being ready, the waggondrove off, accompanied by the four officials and the gendarmes.At the Treasury the packages were once again counted, examined,and found correct, and the deputy of the Minister of Financehimself gave the necessary receipt to the head-officer. Theimportant duty being thus completed, the gendarmes were dismissedto their quarters, and the officers went to their respectivehomes. In the course of the next day Danevitch received a suddencommand to attend without a moment's delay at the bureau of thechief of the police. He found that important functionary lookingvery grave and serious, and it was obvious he was disturbed bysomething of more than ordinary importance. With official brevityhe told Danevitch about the money having been removed from Moscowto St. Petersburg the previous night, and added:

'This morning, in the presence of the Minister of Financehimself and the official staff, the various packages were opened.Two of the note boxes, although intact as regards seals andcords, and which ought to have contained five hundred thousandrouble notes each, were found to be stuffed with blank paper.There has been some clever hanky-panky business, and you arewanted at the Treasury immediately. Now, it strikes me,Danevitch, that though you've cracked some very hard nuts in yourtime, this one will prove too much for you-'

'Why do you think so?'

'Why do I think so! Well, because the whole business has beenmanaged so cleverly that the thieves have calculated everychance, and are not likely to have left any trail behind themthat can be followed up. However, see what you can do. You maysucceed, but I'm afraid you won't.

Danevitch made no comment on his chiefs remark, but at oncebetook himself to the Treasury, where he found everybody in astate of great excitement. He was at once conducted into thepresence of the Minister of Finance, with whom he had a longinterview, and from whom he learnt all the details of the transitof the money. Necessarily the detective sifted these details,examined them one by one, and took such measures as occurred tohim to prove that they were absolutely correct. In the end he wassatisfied that they were. The Minister then showed him a longtelegram he had received from the Treasury Office in Moscow, inwhich it was stated that the money was packed in the usual way inthe presence of the cashier-in-chief, six of his subordinates,and a large stall, all of them proved and tried servants. Everybox was numbered, registered, and sealed, and there was not theshadow of a doubt that when the boxes left Moscow each containedthe full sum marked against it in the books of the department.Danevitch saw at once that if that was correct it proved that therobbery must have occurred in transit, which obviouslynecessitated a prearranged plan of a very ingenious nature;moreover, it pointed to the confederacy of every man, includingthe gendarmes, engaged in safe-guarding the treasure. It wasdifficult to believe in such a conspiracy; but on the first blush*t seemed the only rational conclusion that one could come to,otherwise the officers and the police must have been culpablynegligent of their duty to have allowed a stranger to have walkedoff the boxes, leaving dummy facsimiles in their place. However,Danevitch would express no opinion then, although the Ministerwas anxious that he should do so; but it was the detective'sinvariable rule to keep his opinions to himself until he was in aposition to speak with something like certainty. As he himselfwas in the habit of saying, he never prophesied until he knew. Itwas a safe rule, and it saved him from many an error.

Having completed his investigations in St. Petersburg so faras he could at that stage, he proceeded without loss of time toMoscow, where he satisfied himself, from the evidence laid beforehim, that the money really left the Moscow Treasury all right;and it was impossible the boxes could have been exchanged betweenthe Treasury and the station. The treasure was conveyed in aclosed waggon, which was locked and barred, and in its passagethrough the city it was guarded by twelve mounted soldiersspecially told off for the duty. At the station the waggon wasbacked right up to the railway-carriage, and was unpacked in thepresence of quite a little army of officials. Again, unless therehad been a huge conspiracy, the boxes could not have beenabstracted there. This narrowed the inquiry somewhat, because itmade it clear that the exchange must have been effected while thetrain was on its journey between the two cities. But admittingthat to be the case, it at once suggested that the eight men,that is, the four officers and four gendarmes, were in leaguetogether. To that, however, was opposed the fact that thegendarmes were only told off for the duty an hour before theystarted, and up to that time had had no intimation they weregoing. Therefore, assuming the four clerks had prearranged thematter, they must have corrupted the gendarmes en route.That, however, was such a far-fetched theory that Danevitch wouldnot entertain it.

The next phase of inquiry upon which Danevitch entered wasthat of ascertaining as much as possible about the fourGovernment officials who travelled in charge of the treasure.'These inquiries elicited the fact that they bore irreproachablecharacters, and were held in high esteem in the department.Popoff was a married man with a family. He was in receipt of agood salary, and appeared to be free from financial worries ofany kind. The same remarks applied to Basilovitch and Stroganoff.They were both married and family men, and to all appearances incomfortable circ*mstances. Briazga was unmarried, but he wasregarded as a very steady, well-to-do young fellow, and was knownto be the main support of his father, mother, and an only sister,whose name was Olga. She was younger than her brother, and, owingto an injury to the spine when she was a child, she had been moreor less an invalid all her life.

Danevitch realized at this stage, even as the chief of thepolice predicted he would, that he was called upon to crack avery hard nut indeed, and he did not feel confident about beingable to crack it at all. The minutest investigation had failed sofar to elicit anything that would have justified a suspicion of aconspiracy amongst the eight men. And yet without the connivanceof them all it seemed impossible that the boxes could have beenchanged. But there was the indisputable fact that they had beenchanged; nevertheless, there was not a single item in the list ofcirc*mstances that supported the hypothesis of a conspiracy. How,then, had the robbery been worked P Of course the Treasurypeople, as well as everyone connected with the FinanceDepartment, to say nothing of the higher authorities themselves,were in a very perturbed state of mind, for apart from thelargeness of the sum carried off, the robbery proved that, inspite of the safeguards employed when money was being conveyedfrom one town to another, there was a risk which up to that timehad not been suspected. It was decided at last by the headofficials to offer a reward of ten thousand roubles for anyinformation that would lead to the capture of the thieves and therecovery of the stolen money. Danevitch was opposed to theoffering of a reward, and pointed out the absurdity of it; as hesaid, even supposing the whole of the eight men of the escort hadbeen concerned, they were not likely to betray each other for thesake of ten thousand roubles, when they had a million to divideamongst themselves. And if anyone else had come to know who thethieves were, he would not be blind to the fact that he couldblackmail them to the tune of a much greater sum than tenthousand roubles to induce him to hold his tongue. Therefore, asDanevitch anticipated, the reward brought forth no informer. Inthe meantime he had been working on his own lines, and hadsatisfied himself the money had been put into the train all rightat Moscow, and that, unless with the connivance of ever so manypeople, the boxes could not have been changed between the St.Petersburg station and the Treasury Office; consequently, thebusiness must have been done while the money was in transitbetween the two towns. Further than that, it was as clear asdaylight that the robbery had been prearranged, because thefacsimile boxes had been prepared beforehand; the cord used tobind the false boxes was Government cord, and the Government sealwas so cleverly imitated that the forgery could only be detectedafter close inspection. All this proved unmistakably that therewas a traitor in the camp.

In one of many interviews that Danevitch had with the Ministerof Finance, that gentleman said:

'Danevitch, you must bring the thief to light. It isabsolutely necessary that an example should be made of him as adeterrent. Although the loss of the money would be a serious one,we would rather lose it than let the thief escape.'

'I think, sir, that the thief will not escape; and it ispossible, even probable, that the money may be recovered.'

'Have you any clue?' asked the Minister quickly.

'None whatever.'

'Then, why do you speak so hopefully?'

'Because it seems to me that sooner or later I am sure to finda clue, and then—well, then I shall succeed in bringing thecriminal to justice.'

His belief that sooner or later he was sure to find a clue wasquite justified, although he had been doubtful at first. It waspretty clear now, however, that the thief had an accomplice,otherwise it would have been impossible for him to have carriedout the robbery. Now, Danevitch knew too much of human nature tosuppose that two or three men and more than likely a woman, as heshrewdly suspected, would be able for all time to conceal thefact that they had suddenly acquired wealth. A something wouldleak out—a something that would betray them to the keeneyes that were watching for the sign. Danevitch had learnt thegreat lesson of patience. He did not aim at accomplishing theimpossible, but he knew where it was a case of human ingenuity hehad the best chance, inasmuch as he was an expert in the ways ofcriminals. From the moment that he had gathered up all thedetails of the robbery, he had set a watch upon the movements ofevery one of the eight men who had travelled with the treasurefrom Moscow to St. Petersburg. The gendarmes belonged to Moscow,and had returned, but they were watched, nevertheless; though nota movement of theirs was calculated to arouse suspicion. The fourGovernment officials were also watched, but no sign came fromthem. But of course they knew they were being watched; they wouldhave been dolts indeed if they had remained in ignorance of whateveryone else knew; for Government treasure to the tune of onemillion roubles could not be abstracted without causing asensation and setting the populace on the tip-toe of expectationand the tenterhooks of curiosity. The theory by which Danevitchwas guided was this, that one or more of the eight men whotravelled that night when the money was stolen between Moscow andSt. Petersburg must certainly be in a position to throw somelight on the robbery. On the other hand, every one of the eightknew for a fact, or by instinct, that he was suspected of somecomplicity, consequently he would take particular care not to doanything calculated to give emphasis to that suspicion, andjustify active legal measures being taken against him.

Although Danevitch, by reason of the eminence he had attainedin his calling and the originality of mind he had displayed indealing with some of the most notorious crimes of his day, wasallowed more latitude than his confrères, he wasnevertheless subordinate at this time to the chief of the police,and that functionary, having an eye to a decoration or promotionif the mystery should be cleared up, strongly advocated thewholesale arrest of the eight men, and flinging them into adungeon in the in-Digitized by Original from famous fortress ofPeter and Paul, or the still more infamous Schlusselburg in LakeLadoga, there to remain until misery and madness loosened theirtongues. Against this inartistic and brutal measure Danevitch sethis face, and he asked to be allowed to work out the problem inhis own way. The Minister of Finance, and it was said even theCzar himself, supported Danevitch, so that he was not hamperedwith the red-tapeism of the bureau.

A month passed; no arrest had been made, and apparently not atrace of the criminal discovered. The Treasury officers were indespair, and the chief of the police showed a tendency to lowerDanevitch from the high standard of estimation to which he hadpreviously elevated him. It is true that Danevitch had many bigsuccesses credited to his score, but even a successful man cannotafford to make a big failure. The chief told him this, andDanevitch replied quietly:

'I have not yet made a failure-'

'But you have not recovered the money; you've brought nobodyto book.'

'No, not yet.'

'Not yet! Are you still sanguine, then?'

'Certainly.'

The chief laughed a little bitterly as he replied:

'Well, perhaps it is good to be sanguine, even in a hopelesscause. It keeps a man's spirits up, doesn't it?'

The chief was comparatively new to his office; that is, he hadonly held it two years. He had received very rapid promotionowing to strong influence at Court, and influence in Russia oftencounts a good deal more than merit; indeed, it does in mostcountries. It was said that the chief had certain friends of hisown he was anxious to move into the front rank, hence he was notaverse to see Danevitch go down a bit.

About a week after this conversation between the chief andDanevitch, an old peasant woman left St. Petersburg by the Moscowtrain. She did not book to Moscow, however, but to a place calledVishni Volotchok, about midway between the two cities. She was anuncouth, clumsy, burly-looking woman, wearing the big mob-frilledcap, the heavy woollen wrap crossed over the breast, the shorthomespun linsey-woolsey gray skirt, coarse gray stockings, andbig shoes of her class. She bore with her a ponderous basket,containing a stock of slippers, boots, shoes and sabots, and,being a travelling pedlar, she was furnished with an officiallicense, a formidable-looking document, stamped and vised. In duecourse she reached her destination. Vishni Volotchok is a smalltown of some importance. The station is the principal refreshmentplace between St. Petersburg and Moscow, and a lone wait isgenerally made by the trains going and coming. The old woman'slicense having been duly examined and vised, she was allowed togo her ways, and soon after she proceeded to a fairly large housesituated close to the railway, and facing a road that crossed thetrack. It was a detached house, built for the most part of wood.There were numerous outbuildings— a large barn, stables,cow sheds, and similar places. It was the residence of a landedproprietor named Ivan Golovnin. It was almost dark when the oldwoman reached the house; she tried to sell some of her wares tothe servants, but was not successful. Then she pleaded illness,and begged, as she was a stranger in the town, to be allowed topass the night in the barn. With true Russian hospitality, theservants took her into the great kitchen, and made her up a bedby the stove. As she had not recovered her health the next day,she was allowed to remain, and, in met, finding herself incomfortable quarters, she stayed for three days; then she tookher departure, before doing so presenting the three principalservants with a pair of shoes each. Being market-day, she wentinto the market, disposed of the rest of her stock-in-trade, andreturned at once to St. Petersburg.

It chanced that a couple of days after the old woman's returnto the capital, Danevitch was at the Bureau of Police, havingsome business to transact with the chief, who was excessivelybusy and excessively bad-tempered.

'By the way,' said Danevitch, as he was on the point ofleaving, when he had transacted his affairs, 'concerning therobbery of the Treasury notes, I shall succeed in bringingthe criminals to justice.'

The chief glanced at the detective and smiled. It was not asmile of satisfaction, but of doubt; and yet he knew thatDanevitch had the reputation of never speaking with anything likecertainty unless he felt absolutely sure. But the chief wassomewhat sceptical; it was even possible he was not altogetherfree from jealousy, knowing as he did that Danevitch was lookedupon with great favour in high quarters.

'There's a co*cksureness in your statement,' said the chiefbrusquely. 'I suppose you've discovered something.'

'Yes.'

'What?'

'You must pardon me, but I am not justified in disclosing evento you at present what I know.'

The chief's face darkened. He was aware that, though Danevitchwas nominally his subordinate, he had but little control overhim. Nevertheless, it galled him to think that he, the chief ofhis department—in Russia it is a very influential andimportant position—should not be considered worthy of theconfidence of Danevitch the detective, high as he was in hiscalling. He was weak enough to display his chagrin, and remarkedwith some warmth:

'Well, you have your own way of working, of course; andperhaps you are right, though on the other hand you may be wrong.But since you do not choose to take me into your confidence, andas the authorities expect that my department will unravel themystery, I must now inform you that unless you produce evidencewithin the next twenty-four hours that you really are on thetrack of the criminal or criminals, I shall take the business outof your hands, and put it into the hands of others-'

Danevitch was not the man to be affected by any such emptythreat as this. Conscious of his own strength, and firm in theresolve to pursue his own undeviating course, as he had done foryears, uninfluenced by jealousy, criticism, or the opinions ofothers, he bowed to the chief and merely remarked:

'If in the course of the next twenty-four hours I am in aposition to reveal anything, I will do so. If I am not you are atliberty to act according to your own views. Permit me also toremark that, though you are pleased to doubt my abilities, peoplein high quarters do not.'

This galled the chief, though he had sufficient tact torefrain from provoking further argument, which would not only beprofitless, but beget ill feeling, so he allowed Danevitch towithdraw.

A fortnight later a wedding was celebrated at the Church ofSt. Sophia. It was rather a stylish wedding, and a good manyminor Government officials were present, principally from theTreasury office. During that intervening fortnight Danevitch hadnot given any sign to the chief that he was making progress; norhad the chief taken any steps to put his threat into execution.Nevertheless, he had displayed some impatience, and one day,during an interview with the Minister of Finance, he said:

'I am sorry, your Excellency, that we have made no progress inthe Treasury robbery business; but the fact is, Danevitch's self-assurance and enthusiasm somewhat mislead him. He speaksconfidently where he ought to doubt, and is hopeful where othermen would despair.'

'Hopefulness is rather a good trait in his character, isn'tit? You know the old saving, 'He who despairs neversucceeds.'

'True, your Excellency,' answered the chief, somewhatcrestfallen. 'But light-heartedness does not always commandsuccess.'

'No, perhaps not; but it deserves it.'

'Well, the fact is this, your Excellency. I am of opinionmyself that more active steps should be taken to bring theculprits to justice. Now, we have to deal with facts, notfancies. A very ingenious robbery has been committed, and theTreasury of the State is a heavy loser. The thieves must still bein existence, and, being in existence, it ought not to be beyondthe ingenuity of a trained mind used to working out criminalproblems to discover where they are.'

'I admit the force of your argument,' answered the Ministersedately.

The chief bowed. He was pleased with himself. He believed hehad made an impression.

'Of course,' he went on, 'it is most desirable that theculprits should be brought to book, and punished in such anexemplary manner that it would stand out as a warning for alltime, and deter others who might feel tempted to tamper with thecoffers of the State. But desirable as this is, it is even moredesirable that the whole of the stolen money should be recovered.Your Excellency, however, will readily see that every day thatpasses lessens the chances of that, because the rascals will berevelling in their ill-gotten gains, and squandering them withthe recklessness peculiar to criminals who enrich themselvesdishonestly.'

'That is not Danevitch's opinion,'answered the Minister.

'Possibly; but presumably he has no warrant for his opinion.It is a mere expression of opinion, after all— nothingmore.'

'Let us grant that. Now, what do you suggest?'

What the chief wanted was to have all the credit forunravelling the mystery. It meant to him promotion, andstrengthening his influence in high quarters. As matters thenstood, there was no confidence between him and Danevitch, who hadso consolidated his position as to be independent. The chieftherefore suggested that Danevitch should be put upon a case ofsecondary importance then occupying the attention of theauthorities, and another man of the chiefs choosing should beselected for Danevitch's work. This other man was a creature ofthe chief, though he kept that little fact strictly tohimself.

The Minister was not deceived by the specious arguments of hisvisitor; nor was he so obtuse as to fail to see the jealousy andill-will underlying those arguments.

'Personally, I should object to anyone else taking up thematter at this stage,' he said, 'and as far as my influence goesI should use it to prevent any change being made. For myself, Ihave confidence in Danevitch. He is an able man, and until I findthat my confidence is misplaced I shall continue to believe inhim.'

The chief was nonplussed, and he felt that it would beimprudent to pursue the subject any further. He therefore tookhis leave. But just as he was in the act of bowing himself out,the Minister exclaimed:

'Oh, by the way, on Thursday next there is to be a marriage inthe Church of St. Sophia. A daughter of one of my subordinates isto wed one Peter Golovnin, the son, as I understand, of a wealthylanded proprietor. Curiously enough, I met Danevitch last nightby chance, and he asked me if I was going to the wedding. I toldhim no, I had had no invitation; whereupon he expressed surprisethat my subordinate had not paid me the compliment of invitingme. At the moment there did not seem to me anything out of theway in the remark, but subsequently, on pondering over it, Icould not help feeling that it was full of significance.Danevitch had a deep motive in what he said. Have you any ideawhat the motive was?'

The chief was not only utterly amazed, but deeply annoyed. Hetried, however, to conceal his annoyance, though it was very hardto do so. In his own mind he was perfectly sure that Danevitchhad a motive, though what that motive was he could not possiblyguess, and his annoyance was occasioned by having to confess hisignorance.

'And does your Excellency intend to go?' he asked.

'Well, yes, I think I shall. I fancy developments may takeplace.'

As the chief went away, he resolved that he, too, would bepresent at St. Sophia, for he knew Danevitch too well to supposefor a moment that his remark to the Minister of Finance was ameaningless one.

The marriage was rather a grand affair. The bridegroom was agood-looking young man, about six or seven and twenty; but he hadthe appearance of one who had led a reckless and dissipated life.There were incipient lines in his face, and a want of brightnessabout the eyes that was not good in one so young. The bride was,perhaps, two years younger, with rather pretty features and anabundance of dark hair. Some affection of the spine, however, hadcruelly distorted her figure, and she was twisted out of shape.Her name was Olga, and she was the only sister of Briazga, theGovernment clerk in the Finance Department, who was presentduring the ceremony. The Minister of Finance was also present,thinking from Danevitch's remark that something was to happen.The wedding went off all right, however, and the whole partyseemed very jolly and happy, until Briazga, suddenly espying theMinister, went up to him and, looking very confused and a littleexcited, said:

'You do us an honour, sir, by gracing the ceremony with yourdelightful presence. I scarcely expected you would have beenhere.'

'I suppose not,' answered the Minister dryly; 'but as you didnot honour me with an invitation, nor even condescend to mentionthat your sister was to be married, I thought I would be awitness on my own account.'

Briazga grew more confused, and stammered out a lame apology,adding:

'The fact is, sir, I have endeavoured to keep the mattersecret from all except my most intimate friends, for the simplereason that, as we are comparatively poor people, we could notafford to have much ceremony, and I felt it was too humble anaffair to ask you to come to it. But since you have come, may Iventure to hope that you will now do us the supreme honour ofjoining the luncheon-party at my house?'

The Minister excused himself on the score of businessengagements; but five minutes later, when Briazga had left him,and he was going out of the church, Danevitch came up to him.

'I saw you talking to Briazga,' the detective remarked.

'Did you? Where were you? I didn't notice you in thechurch.'

'Perhaps not; but I haven't been far off. Briazga has invitedyou to the luncheon.'

'How do you know?' asked the Minister, in surprise.

'I guess it.'

'Then, you must have the power of a seer.'

'Not at all, your Excellency. Nothing could be simpler. Youbeing here, your subordinate would have been guilty of anunpardonable rudeness and affront if he had not paid you thecompliment to invite you. But, of course, it was a mereformality. He doesn't wish and does not intend you to go if hecan prevent it.'

'I suppose not; nor do I wish to go.'

'But I should like you to go,' answered Danevitch. 'Indeed, Iconsider it of some importance that you should go. A little dramamay be enacted in which you can play a part.'

The Minister looked hard at Danevitch, as if trying to readhis thoughts, and asked pointedly:

'Do you suspect Briazga of having stolen the Treasurynotes?'

'Will you pardon me for simply saying at this moment that itwould be imprudent for me to answer your question?

'Will you be there?'

'Again I must respectfully decline to answer thequestion.'

'But you have an object in wishing me to be present.'

'Undoubtedly.'

'Then I will go.'

Whereupon the Minister hastily pencilled a note on a slip ofpaper torn from his notebook, and sent it by one of the churchattendants to Briazga. In the note he simply said he had changedhis mind, and would do himself the pleasure of being present atthe wedding-feast, as he found he had a couple of spare hours onhis hands. Danevitch moved off, and had not got faraway, when hewas accosted by the chief of the police, who remarkedsarcastically:

'I understood there were to be some developments at thiswedding.'

'From whom did you understand that?' asked Danevitch, withoutany attempt to conceal the annoyance he felt.

'It is not necessary to mention names. I heard that you wereto be here, and the Minister of Finance was to be here. Theinformation was significant, so I came too. You suspect somebodyamongst this marriage-party?'

'Yes.'

'Who is it?'

'Pardon me, I decline to state at the present moment.'

'Why?'

'Because I have no proof.'

'You are seeking a proof, then?'

'I am.'

'Do you expect to find it?'

'Yes.'

'Where and when?'

'I cannot say. It's problematical. A few hours will decide. Assoon as I am sure of my ground I will report to you.'

The chief recognised the uselessness of further questioning,and left, while Danevitch withdrew into the background as thewedding-party left the church and drove to Briazga's house. Helived in what was known as the English quarter, near the Englishquay. There were no English living there then. Bad times andoppressive restrictions had ruined most of them, and they hadgone away. The house inhabited by Briazga had been formerlyoccupied by an English merchant; it had many conveniences andimprovements not usually found in the average Russian house. Herethe Government clerk had lived very comfortably with his father,mother, and sister Olga. The father and mother were well advancedin years. They had a small income of their own to live upon.

Soon after the wedding-party had arrived at the house, an oldwoman, a professional fortune-teller, presented herself andbegged to be admitted. There was nothing unusual in this.Vagrants of both sexes make a good living in Russia by attendingwedding-parties and forecasting the future of the bride andbridegroom. As the Russians are a superstitious people, theyencourage these fortune-tellers, who are feasted, and generallyadd to the entertainment by story and jest. Having been treatedwell in the servants' quarter, the woman was introduced to thecompany. The bridegroom, who was hilarious and full of vodka andwine, immediately presented himself to have his fortune told; butwhen the woman had looked at his hand and peered into his eyes,while the company waited in breathless expectancy, she said: 'Icannot tell you your fortune.'

At this there was considerable laughing and jeering, and onall sides arose the question, 'Why, why?'

'Oh, ladies and gentlemen,' exclaimed the seer, 'pray don'tlaugh. I can read all your fortunes—better, perhaps, thanyou would like me to do.'

'Then, why don't you begin with the bridegroom?' she was askedby several. 'He is anxious to know what is before him.'

'Good; it shall be told,' answered the woman sharply. 'Give mea pack of cards.'

The pack of cards was brought. She spread the cards on thetable in several rows. Next she shifted them about, and placedthem in squares and circles, and all the time the companygathered round and waited in eager expectancy for what wascoming. Presently the woman jumbled the cards up together, thenrepacked them and told the bridegroom to cut them four times, andthe bride three. That done, the fortune-teller seemed absorbed insome abstruse calculation as she slowly sorted the cards out infour rows.

'You are a precious long time!' exclaimed the bridegroomirritably. 'It strikes me you are a humbug.'

'Patience, patience,' murmured the woman. 'There is somethingwrong about the cards. They won't come right.'

'Because you don't understand them,' suggested somebody.

'Possibly; but patience, patience; I shall understand themdirectly. Ah! I see something now. It's strange, verystrange!'

The curiosity and interest of the company were fully arousedby the mysterious manner of the old woman, who seemed deeplyabsorbed in what she was doing; but Briazga was annoyed, and hecalled out:

'Ladies and gentlemen, let us stop this nonsense. The woman isan impostor, and is only wasting our time, which can be morejoyfully and pleasurably employed. It is an auspicious occasion,this, and we don't want it marred by any unpleasant incident. Letus banish the woman to the kitchen.'

At these words the old fortune-teller drew herself up with acertain dignity, and remarked:

'It is customary for my people to be kindly and hospitablyentertained at these festive gatherings; and I myself have thereputation of being a most successful fortune-teller; it is notmy fault now that the cards will not come right. But I readcertain things about the bridegroom which I am sure he would liketo know. Sax, shall I proceed?'

The bridegroom himself answered.

'Certainly,' he exclaimed, and there was a curious look on hiswine-flushed face. 'I want to know my future; let the woman goon.'

Briazga appeared to be very greatly irritated, but as therearose a murmured assent from the assembly he yielded to theevident desire of his guests, who now crowded round the table andurged the fortune-teller to rearrange the cards. This she did,and having laid them out again in five rows, she uttered anejacul*tory 'Ah!' and after a pause added:

'It is better; but still there is a block somewhere. Can you,sir'—this to the bridegroom—'place on the table fivethousand rouble notes? That will perhaps break the spell.'

It was a common thing for these fortune-tellers to requestthat small sums of money might be produced; but five thousandroubles was a large sum, and there was a general murmur ofsurprise, while Briazga appeared to be particularly uneasy andtroubled. He was trying to push his way through the crowd to getat his brother-in-law, for there was such a hubbub and din ofvoices that he could not make himself heard; but before hesucceeded in accomplishing his purpose, Peter Golovnin, with aboastful air and a drunken leer on his red face, pulled from hispocket a leather wallet, which, on opening, was found to bestuffed full of notes. With an unsteady hand he proceeded tocount out five notes of the value of one thousand roubles each.Having done so, he laid the notes upon the table, and once morethere was breathless silence as the company craned their necks intheir eagerness to see what the old woman would now do. Thebridegroom himself seemed the least concerned of anyone, and,with a coarse, drunken laugh, remarked:

'I suppose the old fool thought I did not possess so muchmoney. It shows what an impostor she is, otherwise she would havebeen able to tell you exactly how much I have in my wallet.However, let her go on, and if she fails this time I will kickher out.'

The fortune-teller seemed in no ways affected by the threat,but busied herself in rearranging the cards. She spread out thefive bank-notes. On each of four she placed a knave from thepack, and on the fifth she put a queen. Suspicious eyes watchedher every movement, as more than one person present was ofopinion that she wanted to purloin the money by some hanky-pankybusiness.

'There is a lot of knavery here,' she remarked thoughtfully.'The queen, as you will see, is the victim of knaves, and I amafraid will come to grief.'

'Who does the queen represent?' asked someone.

'The bride,' answered the fortune-teller.

At this there was a strong murmur of disapproval, and thebridegroom, with an angry cry, put out his hand to sweep up thenotes, but the woman, quicker than he, gathered them in a heap,and said sternly:

'Do not touch them for a moment, or you will break the spell.'Then suddenly she snatched them up, and exclaimed: 'These notesare forged ones. That accounts for my difficulty.'

This was the signal for a general uproar, and the company,believing that the woman wished to steal the money, seized her,and she would have been roughly handled had she not shakenherself free, and energetically forced her way to the Minister ofFinance, who was present, and, thrusting the notes into his hand,said:

'Sir, I know you; you are the Minister of Finance. Look atthose notes. They are forged! I give them into your keeping. Noman has a right to have false notes in his possession. You, sir,as an officer of the State, have it in your power to demand anexplanation. Ask the bridegroom, your Excellency, why he carriesforged notes in his purse.'

The Minister took the notes, though he seemed distressed andpuzzled.

'The wretched hag lies!' thundered the bridegroom. 'The notesare perfectly good. My brother-in-law, if he respects me and thegood name of his family, and loves his sister, my wife, willorder his servants to whip this lying fortune-teller, who hasbroken up our party and destroyed our pleasure.'

There was a disposition on the part of some of those presentto act on the suggestion made, and subject the old woman to roughtreatment; but the Minister, holding up his hand in a deprecatorymanner, said:

'Ladies and gentlemen, control yourselves, please. Keep quiet.The woman is quite right. These notes are not genuine ones. Butno doubt Mr. Golovnin can offer some explanation as to how theycame into his possession.'

'Yes,' cried Golovnin excitedly. 'They were given to me by myfather, and I cannot believe they are false. If they are, then hehimself has been cheated, and it will break his heart.'

'That the notes are not genuine, there can be no possibledoubt,' said the Minister gravely; 'and that you or your fathershould be in possession of forged notes representing so large asum is extraordinary.'

'I pray you return them to me,' wailed the bridegroom, lookingvery sorrowful and sad, while his trembling bride-stood besidehim the picture of puzzled distress. She seemed scarcely able torealize the situation, and her tearful eyes wandered from herhusband to her brother, and from him to the Minister of Finance,as if in dumb entreaty to clear the mystery up, and not mar thepleasure of her wedding-day. But the Minister, although not therein any judicial position, clearly recognised that, as a servantof the State, he had a duty to perform, and, despite thepainfulness of the situation in which he thus found himself, hefelt forced to that duty.

'I cannot return the notes,' he said gravely, 'and I must askyou to let me examine the other notes in your wallet.'

At this request, Golovnin pulled out his pocket-book withoutthe slightest hesitation, and, producing a packet of notes,handed them—with the air of a man conscious of his ownrectitude— to the Minister, who, having subjected them to aclose scrutiny, pronounced them to be forgeries also.

The company were startled by this into a united cry ofastonishment and alarm, while the unhappy bride, with a low moan,fell to the floor in a swoon.

'Surely, sir, there is some mistake,' suggested Briazga,pallid and pale as a corpse.

'Of course it's a mistake,' shouted the bridegroom; 'hisExcellency is wrong—entirely wrong. It is impossible thenotes can he forged. I am sure they are genuine.'

'Briazga,' said the Minister sternly, 'you have been handlingnotes long enough in the Treasury to be able to tell a genuineone from a false one. Look at these, and give me your honestopinion.'

The Minister placed the notes on the table. Briazga took themup with a trembling hand one by one, and examined them, holdingthem to the light, and subjecting them to other tests, while theamazed guests held their breath in anxious suspense, as theywaited for his verdict. Slowly and deliberately, notwithstandingthat he was suffering from intense nervous emotion, Briazga wentthrough the notes one by one, while his superior watched himintently and curiously. At last, when he had finished his task,he said:

'Sir, I am forced to confess that every note there is nothingmore than a clever imitation. But my brother-in-law must surelybe the dupe of a knavish trick. The matter is capable ofexplanation.'

'It must certainly be investigated,' answered the Minister.'It is far too serious to be lightly passed over. I shall have tocarry the notes away, and consult with the authorities as to thesteps to be taken.'

'Stay,' exclaimed the bridegroom, with a pitiful wail ofdespair; 'this may mean for me utter and irretrievable ruin.Remember, sir, it is my wedding-day, and my ruin involves alsothe ruin, and perhaps the death, of my wife, who has been my wifenot yet a day; to say nothing of the ruin, dishonour, disgrace ofthose near and dear to me. Let me beseech of you, therefore, todelay taking any action until I myself have made inquiries. I amconvinced —absolutely convinced—there is some hideousmistake somewhere. I am the victim of a cowardly trick. I willswear on oath that when I left home the notes I put into mypocket were good ones. Is it not possible that the hag of afortune-teller has brought this about by her devilish art?

At this everybody looked to see where the 'hag' was, but shehad made herself invisible. In the hubbub and confusionconsequent on the discovery that the notes were forged, she hadmanaged to slip away unperceived, and had left the house.

'I regret very much indeed,' answered the Minister, 'that suchan unhappy affair as this should have occurred on your wedding-day; but it is far too grave a circ*mstance for me to adopt thecourse you suggest. In fact, I should not be justified in doingso. I repeat, I have a duty to perform, and I must do it, howeverunpleasant the consequences may be. Of course, as you say, thematter is capable of explanation, and any explanation you mayoffer will receive due attention; but a very serious officialinquiry will have to be made, and the origin of these notes mustbe traced.'

With a dignified bow to the dumbfounded company, the Ministerpassed out of the room and left the house, earning the notes withhim. On reaching his official residence, he found a letterwaiting for him. It was from Danevitch, and read as follows:

Your Excellency,

I am suddenly called away from St. Petersburg,but shall be back in three days' time. I am happy to say I canrestore the whole of the stolen notes to the Treasury. I hopeyour Excellency enjoyed yourself at the house of Briazga on theoccasion of the wedding-feast.

The Minister was a little mystified by this letter; andthough he knew that Danevitch was not the man to make a rashstatement, he sent for the chief of the police and questionedhim. But that worthy had to confess that he himself was no lessmystified. He said some harsh things about Danevitch, and evenwent so far as to express some doubt whether Danevitch wascapable of fulfilling his undertaking to restore the whole of thestolen money.

'I've faith in Danevitch,' said the Minister. 'What he says hemeans: and though he puzzles me very much, I feel certain thatall will come right in the end.'

The chief had no answer to this, so he simply bowed and tookhis leave.

True to his promise, Danevitch returned to St. Petersburg inthree days' time, and, to the amazement of the officials and allconcerned, he duly delivered to the Treasury the whole of themissing million roubles, and was enabled to lay such informationbefore the authorities that Briazga and Ivan and Peter Golovninwere immediately arrested.

Ivan Golovnin lived at Vishni Volotchok, where he owned someproperty. He was an old man, and had been married twice. By hisfirst wife he had had a large family, and they were nearly allscattered. By his second wife he had one son, Peter. This youngfellow had been a managing clerk in a fur store in St.Petersburg, and had known Briazga's family some years. OlgaBriazga had fallen desperately in love with him, but herdeformity prevented him reciprocating her passion. Between Olgaand her brother an extraordinary affection existed — anaffection unusual even between brother and sister. He idolizedher; and when he saw she was breaking her heart about Peter, andthat her life was in danger, he told Peter he would enrich him ifhe would marry her. From this a conspiracy was hatched, in whichBriazga, Peter and Peter's father joined interests. The old manwas induced to enter into it for his son's sake. It wasprearranged that when Briazga was next engaged in the duty ofconveying treasure from Moscow to St. Petersburg, an attemptshould be made to purloin some of it; but from the first he gavehis co-conspirators distinctly to understand that, while he woulddo all he possibly could to assist them, he would not keep asingle rouble himself. The opportunity came at last with theremoval of treasure from Moscow. Briazga knew a week beforehandthat he would be employed upon the duty, and he also knew whatmoney would be removed. Everything, therefore, seemed to favourhim, and he lost no time in communicating the intelligence to theGolovnins. Peter at once set to work to prepare two facsimileboxes, and to fill them with paper, the whole being the exactweight of the Government boxes when filled with a million's worthof rouble notes. The Government cord and the forged seal weresupplied by Briazga. The train conveying the treasure stopped fora long time at Vishni Volotchok, that being a buffet stationwhere passengers usually dined or supped. The night of therobbery happened to be very dark and very hot. On arriving atVishni Volotchok, the treasure escort went four at a time to thebuffet to eat and drink. Briazga was included in the first four.When they had finished they relieved the other four; but thenight being sultry, Briazga's party sauntered about the platformsmoking, the door of the treasure waggon being locked. On theplea of getting some tobacco, Briazga returned to the waggon; hewas not absent more than ten minutes— indeed, not so long;but during the time he was enabled to open the off-side door witha secret key, and to hand out the two boxes to Peter, who waslying in wait with the dummies. Thus was the robbery cleverlycommitted, as proved by the evidence twisted and wormed out ofthe culprits themselves by the inquisitorial nature of theRussian law.

The sequel of the remarkable story has yet to be told. WhenDanevitch took the matter up, he came to the conclusion after atime that the robbery had taken place at Vishni Volotchok. Therewere numerous and obvious reasons for that conclusion. It was noless obvious that one or more of the eight persons composing theescort must have had some hand in the robbery. He soon determinedin his own mind that the gendarmes were guiltless. This reducedthe suspects to the four Government officials. Now, assuming thatthe deduction was a correct one, it was no less clear that theremust have been a confederate at Vishni Volotchok; so Danevitchset to work to find out which of the officials had any connectionwith that place, and he soon ascertained that the Briazgas andthe Golovnins were acquainted. That stage of the inquiry reached,he began to feel that he would ultimately succeed in unravellingthe mystery. The means that he employed to track down his quarryDanevitch was careful never to make public, for very obviousreasons, but he had a habit of setting them forth fully in hisdiary, and from that source I am able to give them here.

It was known almost throughout Russia that this remarkable manhad a protean-like faculty for changing his appearance. He couldso alter his voice and features that, in combination with changeof dress, he could defy detection even by those who were wellacquainted with him. His most favourite disguise was that of anold woman, whom he could imitate to the life. In the character ofa female, therefore, he penetrated into the Golovnins' home. Hefound, by close watching, that Peter made frequent journeysbackwards and forwards between the house and a small plantationof firs, about a quarter of a mile away. As there was no apparentreason why the young man should go Lo the plantation so often,Danevitch was induced to search it, with the result that he foundthe two stolen boxes artfully concealed in an old quarry, whichwas almost entirely hidden by creepers and brambles. The boxeshad been opened, but the contents were intact. This find was agreat triumph for Danevitch, but his work was far from complete.It was necessary that he should spread a net that would captureall the culprits, and he carried this out with singularingenuity. That one or both of the Golovnins had had a hand inthe robbery was pretty evident, but others must also have beenconcerned, and they might escape if caution was not observed.When he ascertained that Peter Golovnin and Olga Briazga were onthe eve of marriage, the plot seemed to make itself clear to him,and when he gained entrance to the marriage-feast in the role offortune-teller, his triumph was complete. In the boxes hidden inthe wood at Vishni Volotchok he had placed a large number ofcleverly imitated notes, taking the genuine ones away. Theimitations had been lying at one of the police bureaus for a verylong time. They had been seized on the premises of a notoriousnote-forger. Danevitch was sure that Peter Golovnin, thebridegroom, would liberally supply himself with money from theboxes for his marriage, and if the forged notes were found in hispossession, the evidence would be overwhelming.

It remains to say that the guilt was brought home to allconcerned. They were condemned to death, as they had committed acrime against the State, but the sentence was commuted tobanishment for life to Siberia. Poor Olga Briazga, whose love forPeter Golovnin had been the cause of the crime, accompanied herunhappy husband to Northern Siberia, where he was doomed to passthe first ten years of his sentence.

III. — A MODERN BORGIA

DURING his long and remarkable career, Danevitchwas called upon to solve problems of a very varied nature, and,while his efforts were not always crowned with success— andhe never hesitates in his journals to confess his failures—the percentage of his triumphs was very large.Necessarily, of course, his work lay amongst the by-ways andalleys of life, so to speak; for so long as there are crimes andcriminals—and that will be as long as the world lasts—men must be found who will endeavour to lessen the one andbring the other to book. In his own particular way, Danevitch wasa genius; and it almost seemed sometimes as if Nature had endowedhim with an eighth sense, for he saw and grasped points which noone else could see. Although a born detective, there are manyother callings in which he might have risen to eminence, notablythat of the stage. He was a perfect actor, and his powers ofmimicry and of changing his expression and personal appearancewere little short of marvellous. He could with ease assume therole of an ambassador or a peasant market woman, and he possessedto a remarkable degree the faculty of patience, which isindispensable to anyone who wishes to distinguish himself in thedetective's art. Moreover, he was well educated, and a fluentlinguist, and these accomplishments helped him immensely. Inreferring to the case which I am now about to relate, he himselfspeaks of it as 'a remarkable and complicated one,' which all butbaffled him; and he cites it as an example of the depths ofdepravity to which human nature is capable of descending.

It appeared that one summer night Colonel Ignatoff, who was incommand of an infantry regiment of the line, temporarilystationed in Moscow, returned to his barracks after being out allthe evening, and, complaining of being-very ill, ordered that theregimental doctor should be immediately sent for. From the timethat the order was given to the arrival of the doctor in thecommanding officer's room not more than ten minutes elapsed. Butduring that short space the Colonel had vomited violently, andthe doctor found him lying on the bed, cold, pallid, andcollapsed. The soldier-servant who was with him said that hismaster had suffered awfully, and had described his feelings as ifa fire was raging in his inside. The doctor administeredremedies, which so far had a good effect that the patientrallied, and on being asked if he could account for his suddenillness—he had always been an exceedingly robust andhealthy man—he faintly murmured that he believed it wasattributable to some iced fish soup (a favourite Russian dish),of which he had partaken freely. He thought it probable that thefish from which the soup had been concocted were not quite fresh.It seemed a natural supposition, for the intense heat of theshort Russian summer makes it very difficult to keep meat andfish fresh for many hours.

Fie was next asked where he had partaken of the soup, butbefore he could give an answer he was again seized with violentretching. When the spasm had passed, he collapsed once more, andall the remedies that were tried failed to restore him. Hecontinued, however, to breathe for two hours, and then died. Asthe symptoms from which the unfortunate man had suffered wereidentical with those set up by irritant poison, an order wasreceived that a post-mortem examination was to be made. In duecourse this order was carried out, and resulted in the discoverythat death was due to an irritant poison that had set up violentinflammation of the stomach. This seemed to be quite consistentwith the unfortunate man's own theory that his illness was due tounwholesome soup.

The fish soup is a very common dish in Russia. It is made fromvarious kinds of fish boiled to a pulp. It is then highlyseasoned, thickened with rich, luscious cream; a quantity ofolive-oil is next added, and the mess is iced until it is nearlyfrozen. It is a singularly seductive dish, but only those whohave strong stomachs can stand it. As it is only partaken of inthe summer, great care has to be exercised that the fish is quitefresh. Any carelessness in this respect is apt to produce seriousillness. The peasants, who cannot afford cream, and enrich thesoup with large quantities of inferior oil, often sufferseverely, and not infrequently die, after a hearty meal of thisnational soup, for as often as not the fish used is stale, and,as most people know, decaying fish is a virulent poison.

It was a knowledge of these facts which no doubt led themedical men to jump to the conclusion that the Colonel's deathwas entirely due to the soup, a conclusion that seemed quitejustified by what the dying man himself had said. Some attemptwas made to discover where he had dined, but as this was notsuccessful, the doctors certified that the deceased had died frominternal inflammation after partaking of soup which was probablynot fresh. Here the matter ended. The dead man was buried withmilitary pomp and ceremony, and many eulogies were uttered overhis grave. It was known amongst his intimate friends that he wasa married man, but owing to 'incompatibility' he and his wife hadlong-lived apart. All his effects he left by will to a nephew-named Peter Baranoff, who was a Captain in an artillery regiment,which was also stationed in Moscow.

It was generally supposed that Colonel Ignatoff was well off,if not wealthy, but it became known after his death that he diedworth very little. This gave rise to much gossip, and it was morethan hinted that he had squandered his means and substance on acertain lady to whom he had been greatly attached. However, theselittle incidents were not so rare as to cause any great surprise,and the Colonel and his affairs were soon forgotten, and theworld went on as usual. Colonel Ignatoff had been in his graveabout twelve months, when Moscow was furnished with anothersensation. Although he had died poor, relatively, his nephew hadgot something like three thousand pounds, besides a fair amountof jewellery, some plate, books, and other odds and ends. Theyoung fellow had never been very steady, and after his uncle'sdeath launched out into excesses which brought him under thenotice of his superiors; and he was warned that he would have toregulate his conduct a little better or he might be called uponto resign his commission, as his name was mixed up with a goodmany scandals, and there had been much talk about certaingambling debts he had incurred and was unable to meet. However,an unexpected and effective stop was put to his 'goings on,' andset everybody talking again.

Late one night a man was picked up near one of the gates ofthe Kremlin wall in a state of unconsciousness, and was conveyedby a police patrol to the nearest station-house, as the naturalinference was that he was intoxicated. He was speedily identifiedas Captain Peter Baranoff, from cards and letters found in hispockets. Within half an hour of his admission his symptoms hadbecome so serious as to cause alarm, and it was deemed advisableto communicate with the military authorities. No time was lost indoing this, but before any instructions could be receivedBaranoff collapsed, and within an hour of his admission he wasdead, in spite of all the efforts made to restore him toconsciousness and prolong his life.

The case, as may be supposed, surrounded with mystery as itwas, caused an immense sensation. The deceased man's socialposition, his connection with the army, and the financialdifficulties in which it was thought he was involved, removed thematter out of the sphere of an ordinary affair, and it was the'talk of the town.' As no reason could be assigned for hispremature decease, an autopsy was made, and it was then foundthat, as in his uncle's case, there was violent inflammation ofthe coats of the stomach and the intestinal track. In the stomachitself were the remains of some half-digested morsels of fish;and it was also made evident that a little while before his deaththe deceased had partaken freely of vodka. This led to thesupposition—which was probably correct—thatintoxication was accountable for the unconscious condition inwhich he was found; but intoxication would not account for hisdeath. He was a young fellow- of splendid physique, and none ofthe organs were diseased. His death, therefore, was not due toany natural cause; and after some discussion amongst the medicalmen, it was decided to certify that he had died from eatingimpure food, which, by its poisonous action, had set upinflammation, which had been much aggravated by the vodka. Ofcourse, there was a good deal of curiosity to know where he hadspent the evening, and how it was he should have been wanderingalone outside of the Kremlin until he fell unconscious. Theinference was that he had been revelling with friends at one orother of the numerous haunts which abound in Moscow, and whichoften lure young men to their destruction, Some attempt was madeto trace his movements on the evening of his death; but all theattempt resulted in was that it was proved he left his quartersbetween six and seven. He was in private clothes, and heincidentally mentioned to a friend that he was going to theopera, and afterwards intended to sup with a lady acquaintance.He did go to the opera, but left early—that is, before teno'clock. From that time until he was picked up unconscious laterthere was a blank that could not be filled in.

Strangely enough, at this time there was no suspicion of foulplay. That he should die in a similar manner to his uncle wasconsidered rather remarkable, but there the surprise ended. Butwithin a week of the burial a sharp-eyed and thoughtful medicalstudent, who was pursuing his studies in the great college atMoscow, addressed a few-lines to the Moscow Gazette, inwhich he ventured to suggest that the doctors who examinedBaranoff's body had failed in their duty in not causing achemical analysis to be made of the contents of the deceasedman's stomach; and he advanced the opinion that both Baranoff andhis uncle had been wilfully done to death.

At first this idea was laughed at. It was spoken of as being'ridiculous,' and the suspicion of foul play utterly unjustified.In a few hours, however, public opinion changed. It would bedifficult to tell why, unless on the hypothesis that a newsensation was wanted. A clamour arose, and grave doubts werethrown upon the doctors' judgment. Now, in Russia public opinionhas not the weight that it has in England, and the popular voiceis often stifled whenever it begins to grow a little too loud.But in this case there were certain details which lent a gooddeal of weight to the suspicion of foul play; and in officialquarters, after much discussion, it was considered advisable thatsome notice should be taken of it. Probably it would have beenotherwise but for the seeming fact that the medical men had donetheir duty in a very perfunctory way, and had not been atsufficient pains to establish the accuracy of the conclusion theycame to from what they saw during their scientificinvestigations. It was pointed out that all the symptomsexhibited by the two men were quite compatible with thesuggestions of drug-poisoning; that the theory that both mettheir end through inadvertently partaking of stale fish soup wasso remarkable a coincidence that it could not be regarded as acommonplace matter; and that in the interest of justice, no lessthan of science, some further investigation should bepermitted.

In the end an official order was issued that Baranoff's bodyshould be exhumed, and the usual means taken to test, by the aidof chemical knowledge, whether or not the deceased man came bydeath through an accident, through natural causes, or as thevictim of foul play. In order to leave nothing to be desired inthe way of research, a Professor of Chemistry, who stood at thevery top of the profession, was instructed to make the analysis.This he did, with the result that he came to the conclusion thatthe deceased had met his death from a strong dose of blackhellebore. As soon as the authorities were informed of the resultof the analysis, they had Colonel Ignatoff's body taken up andsubjected to chemical examination. And in this instance also theProfessor declared that death had been brought about by blackhellebore.

At this period black hellebore was by no means a well-knownpoison outside the medical profession, and the average doctor wasperhaps quite ignorant of the morbid symptoms it set up in thehuman subject when a fatal dose was administered. It is classedamongst what is known as the true narcotico-acrids, and bears thebotanical name of Helleborus niger, and is familiar to thegeneral public as the Christmas rose. Few people, however, whoadmire the beautiful rose-tinted flowers of the Christmas rose,which serve to enliven the house in the gloomy winter months,have any idea how deadly a poison can be extracted from its rootsand leaves. Its active principle, according to chemists, is anoily matter containing an acid. Its effects on the human beingare violent retching and vomiting, delirium, convulsions, andintense internal pains. These symptoms generally appear in froman hour to two hours after the fatal dose is swallowed, and deathusually results in about six hours. If administered in alcohol orfood of any kind, no suspicion is aroused on the part of theperson who takes it, as the taste is quite disguised. The morbidappearances produced in the human body are inflammation of thestomach, the digestive canal, and particularly the greatintestines. Poisonous fish or food of any kind almost willproduce these symptoms. Therefore the medical men who certifiedthat Colonel Ignatoff and his nephew, Captain Baranoff, both diedfrom the effects of impure fish used for soup were misled, andjumped to too hasty a conclusion. Some excuse would be found forthem, however, in the fact that the effects of hellebore were notas well known then as now; at any rate, not in Russia. And as theColonel's own dying opinion was that his illness was due to theiced fish soup he had partaken of, it was perhaps pardonable, allthe other circ*mstances considered, that the doctors should havebeen put upon a false scent, and it is pretty certain that butfor the medical student's letter to the Moscow Gazette,which sounded the alarm, no suspicion of foul play would havebeen aroused.

Like most vegetable poisons, hellebore is difficult to detect,and it can only be discovered in the dead body by means of themost delicate tests. The chemical Professor who was charged withthe important duty of examining the remains of Ignatoff andBaranoff had made toxicology an especial study, and he had givenparticular attention to the very large class of vegetablepoisons, having travelled for this purpose in various countries.He stood at the head of his profession in Russia, and it wasowing to his skill and care, and the technical knowledge hebrought to bear, that he was enabled, beyond all doubt, toestablish the fact that the two subjects he was charged toexamine were the victims of poison.

So much having been determined, the question was mootedwhether or not the poison had been administered wilfully oraccidentally. The theory of accident was at once negatived. Itwas like an outrage on common-sense to ask anyone to believe thattwo men, related to each other, should each die within a yearfrom precisely the same cause. The coincidence was too remarkableto be admitted as probable; therefore the matter resolved itselfinto murder—it was an ugly word, and all the incidentssuggested a tragedy of no ordinary kind. The case was placed inthe hands of the chief of police, who was instructed to use everymeans possible to unravel the mystery. An attempt was at oncemade to trace the movements of the two men for some hours beforetheir death. In the Colonel's case this was not an easy matter,as he had been dead for a year; but it was discovered thatCaptain Baranoff called on a friend of his—a civilian namedAlexander Vlassovsky, who lived in a villa just on the fringe ofthe town—and they went together to a café-restaurant, wherethey dined. After dinner they played billiards for a short time,when they separated, as Vlassovsky had an assignation with alady. He did not know where Baranoff was going to. He did not askhim, and the Captain volunteered no information. It was proved,however, that he went to the opera, and left about ten. It wasstated most positively that when Baranoff quitted the café he wasin the pink of health, and in most excel lent spirits. Some hourslater he was found in a state of unconsciousness outside of theKremlin walls. It followed, therefore, if the story about thecafé was correct—and there was no reason to doubtit—that Baranoff must have partaken of the fatal dose ashort time before he was discovered, for the action of the poisonis very rapid.

From the time, however, of his leaving to the time he wasdiscovered unconscious all remained a blank. Nothing could beascertained of his movements. It was obvious that wherever he hadbeen to, or whoever were the people he had been with, somebodyhad an interest in keeping his movements dark, as the efforts ofthe police quite failed to elicit any information. It was thesame in the Colonel's case, and no one could discover where hehad been to on the fatal night. Moscow is a large city,honeycombed with evil haunts; crime flourishes there to a greaterextent than in any other town or city in the whole of Russia. Ithas been the scene of very many deeds of violence, forblackguardism is rampant, and numerous are the traps for theunwary. Its population is perhaps more varied than that of anyother city of the world. Here may be seen cut-throats from theLevant; fishermen and sailors from the Baltic; Circassians,Cossacks, Tartars, Persians, Bokharians, Georgians, Greeks, andJews of almost every nationality. It may be imagined that in sucha place, and amongst such a heterogeneous collection of humanity,wickedness of every description finds a congenial soil.Notwithstanding that, Moscow is known to all Russians 'The HolyCity.' and a devout Russian, who pins his faith to the Russo-Greek Church, regards Moscow with the same veneration that aMohammedan looks upon Mecca.

After several weeks of fruitless effort to solve the mysteryin which the deaths of Colonel Ignatoff and his nephew wasinvolved, the police had to confess themselves baffled. It seemedpretty evident that both men had been cruelly done to death bythe hand of an assassin. But whose was the hand that committedthe deed, and the motive for it, could not be ascertained.

It was at this stage of the proceedings that a request wasmade to Michael Danevitch—who was then in St.Petersburg—to come through to Moscow, and endeavour tosolve the mystery. He complied with the request, and at oncewaited upon General Goremykin[*], the military governor of thecity, by the General's special desire.

[* Note. The book has "General Govemykin."]

'I want you,' said the General, 'to use every means that yourskill can suggest to clear up the mystery surrounding the deathsof Colonel Ignatoff and Captain Baranoff. Both these gentlemenwere murdered; of that there seems to be no doubt; and themurderers must be brought to book. During the last few years agood many soldiers have lost their lives in this city by foulplay, and in several instances justice has gone unsatisfied. Nowtwo officers, men of unblemished reputation and good socialposition, are killed by the same means, and yet the police areunable to bring the crime home to anyone. It seems to me that itis little short of disgraceful that the police supervision of acity like this is so deficient.'

'Is it deficient?' asked Danevitch.

'Yes; otherwise, how is it officers and gentlemen can bebrutally done to death and the murderers escape?'

'As far as I gather, this is no ordinary crime,' remarkedDanevitch.

'Well, perhaps not; but it shows a weakness in theorganization when our police fail to get the slightest clue tothe perpetrator of the crime. Now, what are you going to do?'

'I don't know,' Danevitch answered, as brusquely as theGeneral asked the question.

'If you don't know, what is the use of your taking the matterin hand?'

'Pardon me, General, but I am not a prophet, therefore Icannot foretell what I am going to do.'

'Well, no, perhaps not; but you must have some idea of thelines you intend to proceed upon.'

'I shall simply try to succeed where the police havefailed.'

'And you may fail, too,' exclaimed the General, who was alittle piqued by Danevitch's brusqueness.

'Oh, that is very likely,' was the answer.

'If you do, I'll take some other and more drastic means tosolve the problem. Officers and men under my control shall not bedone to death with impunity.'

Danevitch was not affected by this display of temper, and whenthe subject had been exhausted he withdrew. He recognised thatthe case was a difficult one, and, in view of the fact that thepolice had exhausted all their efforts, he was by no meanssanguine, although he was of the opinion that the ordinarymethods of the Russian police were very clumsy, and, in theireagerness to lay their hands on somebody, and their fossilizedbelief that the whole populace was ever engaged in some deep anddark conspiracy against constituted authority, they oftencommitted the most ludicrous errors. He never hesitated tocondemn the police methods of his country. He described them asinartistic, unscientific, mid brutal. His outspokenness on thisscore made him very unpopular with the police, and they did notlike him to have anything to do with cases in which they hadfailed. It is needless to say this did not disturb him. He had anindependent mind; he worked by his own methods, and he neverallowed himself to be influenced by jealousy or ill-will.

His first step in connection with Colonel Ignatoff's death wasto try and get hold of his private letters and papers, as he wasof opinion that they might furnish him with a keynote; but he wasinformed that private documents of all kinds belonging to theColonel had passed into the |>o>session of his nephew, and whenthe nephew died all his papers were secured by his executor, whodeclined to allow them to be seen by anyone until he himself hadgone through them; for, though he did not give it as his reason,he was afraid of anything becoming known that might cause afamily scandal. Danevitch next sought an interview with AlexanderVlassovsky, with whom Captain Baranoff had dined on the night hemet his death.

Vlassovsky was a fashionable young man, and lived in what wasknown as the Slobody[*] quarter, where most of the wealthymerchants had their villas. The business he carried on in thecity was that of a stockbroker, and, judging from hissurroundings and the style he kept up, he was in a flourishingway. He was a bachelor, and made no secret about it that he wasfond of gaiety.

[* Note. The book has "Slobodi." Strictly-speaking, the termSloboda, pl. Slobody (suburbs) denotes quarters of Moscow which are situated outside the Zemlyanoy Gorod (Earthen City).]

According to the account he gave, he had been acquainted withBaranoff for a long time, and had lent him considerable sums ofmoney to enable him to keep up his extravagances; for thoughBaranoff's people were people of note, and exceedingly proud,they were not rich. At any rate, the young man was not able toget much from them, and his pay as a Captain was too small toenable him to uphold the position he aspired to. Of course, hisfinancial transactions with Vlassovsky had been kept very secret,for had they become known to the military authorities, he wouldhave got into serious trouble.

It will thus be seen that the relations between the young menwere those of borrower and lender. They were not friends in theordinary sense. Indeed, Vlassovsky remarked to Danevitch withsome bitterness:

'You know, like most young officers, he was as proud asLucifer, and seemed to think I was not his equal; though he wasnever averse to dine with me and drink wine at my expense.'

'Why did he come to you on the night of his death?'

'To borrow money.'

'Did you lend him any?'

'Yes.'

'How much?'

'Two hundred roubles.'

'What security did he give you for the various sums you lenthim?'

'Nothing beyond his acknowledgment.'

'And you were satisfied with that?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Because, if he had failed me at any time, I could havereported him to the military authorities, and that would havebeen his ruin.'

'But you never had occasion to do that?'

'No, certainly not.'

'Did he ever pay you back any of the money he borrowed?'

'Oh yes.'

'Where did he get the money from to pay his debts?'

'How can I tell you that? He did not make me hisconfidant.'

'Did he owe you much at the time of his death?'

'Yes.'

'How much?'

'Nearly ten thousand roubles.'

'That is a large sum! I suppose you will lose it?'

'Oh dear no!'

'Why? Did he die worth money?'

'His life was insured for ten thousand. I hold the policy anda letter from him to the effect that, should he die before payingme my due, I was to receive the policy money.'

'Have you any idea where he spent his last evening, afterleaving you?'

'It is known that he went to the opera, because someacquaintances saw him there.'

'But after that?'

'I haven't the remotest idea.'

'Do you know nothing of his affairs of gallantry?'

'Absolutely nothing.'

'You think, however, that he had lady acquaintances?'

'I should say there isn't a doubt about it. He was wild.'

'And possibly his death was due to jealousy on the part of arival?'

'Very possibly.'

'Did you know his uncle?'

'I did.'

'Did you accommodate him with money?'

'Yes, occasionally.'

'Was he in your debt when he died?'

'No; he paid me all he owed me a little while before hisdeath.'

'Have you any theory to suggest with reference to the deathsof these two gentlemen?'

'None whatever.'

'Were you very much surprised when you heard of the strangeway in which they both died?'

'I can't say that I was.'

'Why were you not?' asked Danevitch quickly.

'In the first place, I didn't know they had beenmurdered.'

'But when you did?'

'Then I thought they had made themselves obnoxious tosomebody, and the somebody had put them out of the way.'

'And yet you have no idea who that somebody is?'

'No.'

Danevitch stopped his questioning at this point. As he leftthe house of Alexander Vlassovsky he was of opinion he had'struck a trail'—to quote his own words— and he beganto think out the ways and means of proving whether he was rightor wrong.

In a semi-fashionable quarter of St. Petersburg lived a ladyknown generally as Madame Julie St. Joseph. She was of Frenchorigin, but had been a great main years in Russia. Her husbandhad carried on business in Moscow as an engraver and chromo-lithographer. He had been dead, however, a very long time, andseemed to have passed from the public mind; but it was vaguelyremembered that he was almost old enough at the time of his deathto have been his wife's grandfather.

Julie St. Joseph was exceedingly handsome, and at this periodwas about forty years of age. She might have passed, however, forbeing even younger, as she was remarkably well preserved, fresh-looking, bright of eye, and with an abundance of animal spirits,which seemed rather to indicate the girl than the matured woman.Much wonder was very naturally expressed that the pretty widowhad remained a widow so long, for, as was well known, she had hadoffers of marriage innumerable, and might, had she been sodisposed, have made an excellent match. But the pretty Julie wasfond of gaiety and freedom. As a wealthy widow—it wasuniversally believed that she was wealthy—she could do asshe liked, and attract around her men of all sorts andconditions, and of all ages. They paid her homage. She held them,so to speak, in her hand; she could twist them round her fingers.Quarrels about her were innumerable, and more than one jealousand hot-blooded fellow had lost his life in a duel of which thebewitching Julie was the cause.

The style she elected to live in was compatible with thepossession of riches. She kept up a splendid establishment; herhouse was sumptuously furnished: she had numerous servants, manyhorses. Her winter sledges were renowned for their luxuriousappointments; her summer carriages were almost unique. She was awoman of the most sybaritic tastes; and every taste was panderedto and pampered. Among her servants was a Creole; he was a man ofmedium height, though of powerful build, and with a sullen,morose expression. He was always called Roko, but of his originand history nothing was known. He seemed to be very stronglyattached to his mistress, and always attended her wherever shewent; but no man endowed with the faculty of speech could havebeen more silent than he was. He rarely spoke, except whencompelled to answer some question; and it was rumoured that, likea faithful hound, he slept at his mistress's door, and kept watchand ward over her during the hours of night, while during the dayhe obeyed her slightest beck or call.

It was the beginning of the Russian New Year, and Madame JulieSt. Joseph gave a ball. It was a very grand ball; everything wasdone on a lavish scale, and the pomp and magnificence was almoston a par with a State function. The people, however, who attendedthe widow's festive gathering could not lay claim to any highsocial position— at any rate, not so far as the ladies wereconcerned. The ladies who were in the habit of frequenting thepretty Julie's salons were of questionable reputations. Julie wasnot recognised as a person of social distinction, and in thefemale world some rather cruel things were said about her. Themen, however, represented many grades of life: the Army, Navy,Law; the Diplomatic Service; Art, Literature, theDrama—intellectual Bohemia generally, though not a few ofthese men were at considerable pains to conceal the fact thatthey visited the charming widow, for, had it been generallyknown, their own women-folk might have protested in a way thatwould have been anything but pleasant, and they would have foundthemselves ostracised in those higher circles in which many ofthem moved. Probably Madame St. Joseph was indifferent to theopinions of her own sex, so long as she could exact homage frommen; and there could be no two opinions about the power which shewielded over the sterner sex. It was, therefore, scarcely matterfor wonder that the ladies of St. Petersburg should feelembittered against her. When a man is jealous, he takes a rough-and-ready means of showing his jealousy; if he has a rival, hegenerally 'goes for him,' and the best man wins. A woman'sjealousy, on the other hand, finds expression in a different way.In her bitterness she would sully the reputation of a spotlessangel, and her mother-tongue has no words strong enough where-with to express her hatred. No wonder that the old painters, indepicting jealousy, always took a female as a model. Of courseMadame Julie St. Joseph's beauty, and the power it enabled her towield, made the women very jealous indeed; but if her femaleguests lacked quality, the deficiency was amply compensated forby the high standing of many of the men. She knew, and was proudof the fact, that there was hardly a man in Russia, no matter howexalted his position, that she could not have brought to herfootstool had she desired to do so. Such a woman was necessarilybound to become notorious and have numberless enemies. But thewidow was beautiful, she was rich, she gave grand receptions, shespent money liberally; therefore she had no difficulty inrallying around her a powerful body of adherents; and, while halfSt. Petersburg spoke ill of her, the other half lauded her.

Amongst the guests who attended the ball in question was adark-skinned, somewhat peculiar-looking man, said to be a PolishCount, named Prebenski. He had a heavy moustache and beard, andwore spectacles. As he appeared to be an entire stranger to thecompany, the hostess took him for a time under her wing; but, ashe could not or would not dance, and seemed to find irresistibleattraction in the buffet, where there were unlimited supplies ofvodka, as well as wines of all kinds, she left him to his owndevices, and bestowed the favour of her smiles on more congenialguests. At length the Count, from the effects, apparently, of toogreat a consumption of strong drinks, sought a quiet nook in ananteroom, and ensconcing himself in a large chair, sank into aheavy sleep. Some time later, when the night was growing very oldand the grayness of the winter dawn was beginning to assertit*elf, and the guests had dwindled down to a mere handful, Roko,the Creole, entered the room. Seeing the Count sleeping there, hepaused for a moment as if surprised; then he shook the guestroughly, but getting no response, save a grunt, he went away,returning in a few minutes with another man. That man wasAlexander Vlassovsky, who approached the Count, shook him, calledhim, and being no more successful in his efforts to arouse himthan Roko had been, he told Roko to carry him upstairs to abedroom. That was done, and the Count was tossed upon a bed andleft there; but before half an hour had passed Vlassovsky cameinto the room carrying a small shaded lamp, for though it wasfully daylight heavy curtains were drawn at the window.

He passed the light of the lamp over the sleeping man's eves,shook him, called him, but as the Count remained unconscious ofthese efforts, the intruder placed the lamp on a small table and,seating himself in a chair by the bedside, began to search thepockets of the guest. The search resulted in the production of amiscellaneous collection of articles, which were duly returned;but at last a pocket-book was drawn forth; it was opened, andfound to contain a considerable number of bank-notes,representing in the aggregate a large sum of money. These notesVlassovsky took the liberty of transferring to his own pocket,and replacing the lightened pocket-book, withdrew.

Some hours later Count Prebenski rang the bell in his room,and in response to the summons Roko appeared, bearing a lamp. TheCount eyed him for some moments in apparent astonishment, andthen asked:

'Where am I?'

'In the house of Madame Julie St. Joseph.'

'What is the hour?'

'It is three o'clock.'

'In the morning?'

'No. The afternoon.'

Roko drew the curtains, and revealed the bright, steel-coloured winter sky, tinged a little towards the horizon with aflush of red.

The Count seemed puzzled. He stared first at the sky. then atthe Creole.

'How is it I am here?' he asked.

Roko revealed all his gleaming teeth as he grinned in reply.'How is it I am here?' repeated the Count, peremptorily andhotly.

'Your Excellency indulged too freely in liquor, and we bad toput you to bed.'

'Umph!' mused the Count; 'it was kind; now, tell me, did yourmistress, Madame St. Joseph, know of my condition?'

'She did.'

'Was she angry?'

'Well, Excellency, she certainly wasn't pleased.'

'Ah! I fear I have made a big a fool of myself. Give me thewherewithal to put myself in a presentable condition, and I willsee madam. By the way, has she risen yet?'

'Oh yes.'

'Good; as soon as I have performed my toilet, return here andconduct me to your mistress.'

Roko bowed and withdrew. In half an hour he came back again,and, followed by the Count, led the way to Madame St. Joseph'sboudoir, a very comfortable little retreat, daintily furnished,cosy and bright with knick-knacks, cushions, curtains, luxuriousrugs, and warmed to the high temperature beloved of Russians bymeans of a polished metal radiating stove Dressed in a mostelegant fur-trimmed dressing-gown, madame was stretched upon adivan. Reside her was a Moorish table, on which stood coffee andcigarettes. She was smoking as the Count entered. Without rising,she extended her delicate white hand to him, and, smilingsweetly, said:

'Pray be seated, Count. Roko, pour out some coffee. Will youtake vodka or cognac with it, Count?'

The Count chose vodka, and his wants having been supplied, thelady bade Roko retire.

'I owe you an apology, madame,' began the Count. 'I forgotmyself last night. It was good of you to take care of me. I amdeeply indebted to you for your hospitality.'

'Oh. a mere trifle,' smiled the lady. 'My faithful slave foundyou asleep in a chair, and as his efforts failed to awaken you,he carried you upstairs by my orders.'

At this point in the conversation the door opened, and \Vlassovsky appeared on tin- threshold; but seeing that madame hada visitor, he quickly withdrew-.

'I am sorry to say I am the victim of a strange weakness,'answered the Count. 'I am a temperate man, but should I betempted to indulge beyond my ordinary allow a nee it throws meinto a sort of coma, from which I only recover after many hoursof death-like sleep.'

'You are to be pitied. Count.'

'Your pity is worth having,' he answered. 'Now, tell me,madame, what penalty am I to pay for having so far forgottenmyself?'

'Penalty, Count?'

'Yes. I am wealthy. Money is no object to me. I have notes. Iam almost alone in the world.'

'Indeed!' exclaimed the lady, with animation, and regardingher guest with new-born interest; 'you are fortunate. I presumeyou are staying here temporarily?'

'Yes. I am travelling for my pleasure. When our mutual friendTrepoff was good enough to ask you to extend your courtesy to me,and sent me an invitation to your ball, I accepted it withpleasure, and was glad to leave the loneliness of my hotel; butit grieves me sorely to think that I so forgot myself.'

'Pray, Count, do not let the matter give you any concern,'said the charming widow, as she sat up and again extended hersoft hand to him to kiss. 'Are you likely to remain in St.Petersburg long?'

'My stay will be regulated by the amount of pleasure Iexperience here. But a hotel is not the most comfortable place inthe winter, and I confess I feel dull and lonely.'

The lady fixed her keen eyes upon him as she remarked:

'Indeed, I can well understand that, Count. Now, if I mightventure to ask you to make my poor abode your residence duringyour stay in the city, it would afford me great pleasure to playthe hostess. Will you accept of my hospitality?'

'Really, Madame St. Joseph, I, I—'

'Pray, no thanks or excuses, Count; the pleasure is mine, andI will endeavour at least to prevent your suffering fromennui.'

The Count rose, and warmly pressing her hand, said he wasoverwhelmed by her goodness, and no less enchanted with herbeauty. He accepted her invitation in the spirit in which it wasgiven, and without losing any time would hasten to his hotel, payhis bill, and remove his things at once to madame's house. Anhour later he drove up in a drosky with his luggage, andwas conducted to the handsomest of the guest-chambers. That nighthe dined tête-à-tête with madame, and in the course of thedinner he told her that the previous night he managed to lose, orhad been relieved of, in some way, A large sum of money. When sheuttered exclamations of regret, and expressed her sympathy withhim, he laughed carelessly, made light of his loss, and saidthat, large though the sum was, it gave him no real concern, andhe would regard it as a fine he had paid for his rudeness.

The widow sighed and told him he was a fortunate man in beingable to bear such a loss without feeling it.

A fortnight passed, and the Count found himself in comfortablequarters. As if desirous of monopolizing his company, the widowinvited nobody to the house, and those who paid the ordinarycourtesy calls she speedily dismissed; while gentlemen who hadbeen in the habit of dropping in of an evening to play cards andsup with pretty Julie were told by Roko that she was suffering somuch from the fatigues of the ball that she could see no one. Onecaller, Peter Trepoff, who came specially to inquire about theCount, was told that though he had been there he had departed,without saying where he was going to. All that fortnight sheremained very secluded. She would not accompany the Count when heinvited her to go out, and she so strongly persuaded him not togo that he yielded and remained indoors. Every fascination, everytalent she possessed, she put forth and excited to amuse andentertain him, until he was as pliable as clay in her hands. Onenight he had retired to rest, and had been in his room about anhour, when he heard the handle of his door move. The door was notlocked; indeed, there was no key wherewith to lock it, and he hadnot concerned himself about it in any way. Very gently, andalmost without a sound, the latch was raised and the door pushedopen. Presently Roko entered on his hands and knees. He pausedand listened. Certain nasal sounds seemed to indicate that theCount was sleeping very soundly. Roko carried a tiny littlelantern, and he Hashed a ray across the sleeper's face. Havingsatisfied himself that the Count was asleep, he drew from hispocket a phial containing a colourless liquid, and, approaching anight-table, on which stood a jug of barley-tea, which the Counthad in his room every night, as he said it had been his customfor years always to drink barley-tea in the night-time, theCreole poured the contents of the phial into the jug, and havingdone that, he withdrew as stealthily as he had entered. Soonafterwards the Count rose, procured a light, and took from hisportmanteau a large Bask, into which he emptied the barley-tea.Then he addressed himself to sleep again, and slept the sleep ofthe just.

At the usual morning meal he did not put in an appearance; buthe sent a request to madame, asking her to be good enough to comeand see him. The request was speedily complied with. When sheappeared she looked as charming and as radiant as ever. He wasprofuse in his apologies for having troubled her to come to hisroom, but pleaded as an excuse a feeling of extreme illness. Shedisplayed great anxiety and concern, and wanted to send for adoctor; but he told her it was nothing. He thought something haddisagreed with him; that was all. It would pass off. A doctor wasnot needed. She declared, however, that if he felt no better inan hour's time she would insist on his seeing a doctor. An hourslipped by, and he was still in the same condition, so amessenger was despatched for a doctor, who speedily put in anappearance.

To the doctor's inquiries, the patient said he believed he hadeaten or drunk something which had upset him. The doctor was ofthe same opinion, and prescribed accordingly. In the course ofthe afternoon the Count said he felt somewhat better, and thoughthe hostess tried to dissuade him from doing so, he announced hisintention of going out to get a breath of fresh air. He wantedher to accompany him. That she stoutly refused to do; and whenshe saw he was determined to go she withdrew her opposition, andexpressed a hope that he would speedily return. He assured herthat he would do so. He said he was going to have a drive in asledge on the Neva for two or three hours. Having put on hisshuba, his fur gloves, fur-lined boots, and fur cap, hetook his departure.

After an absence of about three hours, he returned, anddeclared that he felt much better. He spent about an hour withthe lady in her boudoir, then retired. She was very anxious that.Roko should sit up with him, but he resolutely set his faceagainst that, saving that there was not the least necessity forit. He was an exceedingly sound sleeper, and he was sure he wouldsleep as soundly as usual. About midnight his door was openedsilently, as on the previous night, and once again Roko creptstealthily to the bed-table, and emptied the contents of a phialinto the barley-tea. Soon after he had withdrawn the Count jumpedup, poured the tea into another flask, which he produced from hisportmanteau, and then lay down in the bed again until aneighbouring church clock solemnly and slowly tolled out twoo'clock. Almost immediately the Count rose, and dressed himself.That done, he took from his portmanteau a revolver, and havingexamined it to ascertain if it was properly loaded, he lighted alantern provided with a shutter, to shut off the light whenrequired. Going to the door, he opened it gently, and listened.All was silent. There wasn't a sound, save that made by the wind,which whistled mournfully through the corridor. Having satisfiedhimself that nothing human was stirring, the Count proceededcautiously along the corridor, descended a short flight of stairsto another corridor, along which he passed, and gained the maindoor that gave access to the street. He opened this door, thoughnot without some difficulty, as there were bolts and chains to beundone, and he worked cautiously for fear of making a noise.

At last all obstacles were removed, and the heavy door swungon its hinges, letting in a blast of icy air, and revealing thebrilliant stars that burned like jewels in the cloudless blacksky. In a few minutes eight men filed into the house noiselessly,and the door was closed, but chains and bolts were left undone.The men exchanged a few sentences in whispers. Then, followingthe Count, they proceeded to the sleeping apartment of MadameJulie St. Joseph. In an anteroom, through which it was necessaryto pass to reach her room, Roko, enveloped in furs, lay on acouch, locked in sleep. A shaded lamp stood on a bracket againstthe wall.

Four men remained in this room; the other four and the Countentered the lady's chamber. Here, again, a shaded lamp burned ona bracket, and close to it an ikon—or sacredpicture—hung. The pretty widow was also sleeping. By thistime the Count had undergone a strange transformation. His beardand moustache had disappeared, revealing the smooth-shaved,mobile face of Michael Danevitch, the detective. He shook thelady. With a start sire awoke. The four policemen had concealedthemselves; Danevitch alone was visible. It was some momentsbefore madame realized the situation; then, seeing a strange manby her bedside, she uttered a cry, and called for Roko. He sprangup, and instantly found himself in the grip of two stalwart men,while the revolver under his pillow, which he tried to get, wasseized.

'Madame Julie St. Joseph,' said Danevitch, 'get up and dressyourself.'

'What does this mean?' she asked, with a look of alarm on herpretty face, as she thrust her hand under the pillow, where shelikewise had a revolver concealed. But in an instant Danevitchhad seized her wrist in his powerful grasp, and one of hiscolleagues removed the weapon.

'It means,' he answered, 'that your career of infamy has cometo an end. You are under arrest.'

A look of terror and horror swept across her face as she askedin a choked sort of voice:

'On what grounds am I arrested?'

'That you will learn later on. Sufficient for you to know thatyou are a prisoner. Come, rise and dress yourself.'

She recognised the hopelessness of resistance, and, of course,she understood that her faithful watch-hound Roko had beenrendered powerless. She was trapped; that she knew. But it didnot dawn upon her then that the Count and Danevitch were one andthe same. Consequently she was puzzled to understand how herdownfall had been brought about.

With a despairing sigh she rose and put on her clothes. Halfan hour later she was being conveyed to the gaol with Roko,accompanied by Danevitch and three of his colleagues. The otherfive had been left in charge of the house. When madame hadsomewhat recovered her presence of mind, she assumed a bravadowhich she was far from feeling, and asked Danevitch airily if heknew how her guest the Count was.

'Oh yes,' answered Danevitch. 'He is perfectly well, as youmay judge for yourself; for I it was who played the part of theCount so effectively.'

With an absolute scream madame bit her lip with passion, untilthe blood flowed, and dug her nails into the palms of herhands.

'What a fool, a dolt, an idiot I've been! But tell me, how wasit Peter Trepoff asked me to invite you to the ball?'

'Peter Trepoff is my agent, madame.'

With a suppressed cry of maddening rage, the wretched womancovered her face with her hands and groaned, as she realized howthoroughly she had been outwitted.

That same night, or, rather, some hours before the widow andRoko were swept into the net which had been so cleverly preparedfor them, Alexander Vlassovsky was arrested in Moscow. Danevitchlearned that fact by telegraph when he went out in the afternoon.He had first begun to suspect Vlassovsky after that interviewwhen he was making inquiries about the death of Captain Baranoff.The result was that he intercepted letters from Madame Julie St.Joseph, who had returned to St. Petersburg. She had a small housein Moscow, which she occasionally visited in order to securevictims. In Moscow, where he was well known, the wily Vlassovskydid not go near her, but he helped her as far as he could in herfiendish work. He had been very cleverly trapped by the noteswhich he relieved the supposed Count of. Those notes were notgenuine, and when he attempted to pass them he was arrested, forDanevitch had notified the Moscow police.

Subsequent revelations brought to light that the wretchedwoman had been in the habit of luring men to their doom by meansof her fatal beauty. She bled them of their money, her plan beingto cajole them into giving her a lien on any property they mightpossess. This was most artfully worked by the aid of Vlassovsky,and when the victim had been securely caught, he was poisoned.The poisons were concocted by Madame St. Joseph herself, and whenshe could not do it herself, Roko administered the fatal dose ordoses. She had picked up this man in Spanish America, where shehad been for some time, and, weaving her spell about him, hadmade him absolutely her slave.

Vlassovsky, who, up to the time that he made her acquaintance,had been an honest, industrious man, fell under the magic of herinfluence, as most men did, and became her all-too-willing tool.His nature once corrupted, all scruples were thrown to the winds,and he hastened to try and enrich himself. It seemed that themiserable woman really loved him, and though he was fatallyfascinated with her, he was afraid of her; and, as he confessed,his aim was to accumulate money as quickly as possible, and thenflee from her and the country for ever. Hut unfortunately forhimself, during that memorable interview following CaptainBaranoff's death, he had aroused the suspicions of Danevitch,whose marvellous perceptive faculties had enabled him to detectsomething or another in Vlassovsky's manner, or answers to thequestions put to him, which made him suspicious. For Danevitch tobecome suspicious meant that he would never rest until he hadproved his suspicions justified or unfounded.

It need scarcely be said that with her arrest in St.Petersburg Madame St. Joseph's career came to an end. From themoment that Danevitch entered her house her doom was sealed.Believing him to be the person he represented himself to be, shebegged of him to help her financially; and, seeming to yield toher entreaties, he drew up a document which purported to makeover to her at his death certain estates in Poland. Of course,these estates had no existence. Having secured him, as shethought, her next step was to poison him by small doses of blackhellebore, so that he might gradually sicken and die. Herdevilish cunning was evidenced in every step she took. She wouldnot appear in public with him, nor did she allow any of thevisitors to her house to see him. Consequently it would not begenerally known that she had associated with him. As his illnessdeveloped by means of repeated doses, she would have had himremoved to a hotel, and she knew pretty well that, as in ColonelIgnatoff's case, he would shrink from letting it be known that hehad been intimate with her. Her cunning, however, overreacheditself; she was defeated with her own weapons; Danevitch had beentoo much for her. The poisoned barley-tea he submitted toanalysis, and the evidence against her was overwhelming. But whenshe found that there was no hope, she was determined to defeatjustice, and one morning she was found dead in her cell: she hadpoisoned herself with prussic acid. The acid was conveyed to herby a warder, who was heavily bribed by one of her friends to doit. It cost him his liberty, however, for he was sent to NorthernSiberia for the term of his natural life.

Roko died very soon afterwards from typhoid fever contractedin the prison, but he was faithful to the last, for never a wordcould be wrung from his lips calculated to incriminate thestrange woman who had thrown such a spell around him. Vlassovskywas deported to Northern Siberia in company with the treacherouswarder. He very soon succumbed, however, to the awful hardshipshe was called upon to endure and the rigours of the Arcticclimate.

The number of Madame St. Joseph's victims was neverdetermined. That they were numerous there was not the slightestdoubt; and had it not been for the cleverness of Danevitch shewould probably have continued to pursue her infamous career foryears longer, and ultimately have passed away in the odour ofsanctity. Her downfall, it need scarcely be said, caused greatsatisfaction in St. Petersburg and Moscow, where she haddestroyed so many of her victims.

III. — THE STRANGE STORY OF ANATTACHÉ.

IT can readily be understood that Danevitch lednot only an active life, but a varied one; and the cases he wascalled upon to deal with revealed many remarkable phases of humannature. He never attempted to pose as a moralist, but hefrequently deplored the fact that wickedness and evil should solargely predominate over goodness. Tie was also apt to waxindignant against the vogue to decry anything in the nature ofsensation. He was in the habit of saying that life from thecradle to the grave is full of sensations, and that theinventions of the fictionist are poor, flat, and stale, whencompared with the realities of existence. But this is undoubtedlythe experience of everyone who knows the world and his kind. Itis only the cheap critic, the bigot, or the fool, who has theboldness to deny the existence of sensation in real life, and tosneer at what he is pleased to term melodramatic improbabilities.There is no such thing as a melodramatic improbability. The onlycharge that can legitimately be levelled at the so-calledsensational writer is his tendency to grotesque treatment ofsubjects which should simply be faithful reproductions from life.The curious story of young Count Dashkoff, the Russianattaché, with whom this narrative is concerned,illustrates in a very forcible way the views advanced in theforegoing lines. Indeed, as Danevitch himself says, if anyone hadinvented the story and put it into print, he would have raisedthe ire of the army of critics—the self-constituted high-priests of purity, who, being unable to improve or even equalthat which they condemn, are all the more violent in theircondemnation.

Count Dashkoff was a young man, a member of a very old Russianfamily, who had in their day wielded great power, and before theabolition of serfdom took place, had held sway over more serfsthan any other family in the whole of the empire. The Count haddistinguished himself in many ways. His career, up to the time ofthe extraordinary events about to be recorded, had been marked bybrilliancy and shade. As a student and a scholar he had attractedthe attention of many notable men, more particularly by his well-known and remarkable work, entitled 'The Theory of Creation,'which is conspicuous for its erudition, its deep research, andits wide grasp and clever treatment of a tremendous subject. Thehook is, and will ever remain, a standard, and consequently anenduring monument to the Count's ability and industry. On theother hand, he had made himself notorious by certain excesses,and a recklessness of conduct which had shocked the proprietiesand outraged the feelings of those who were interested in him andhoped that he would ultimately rise to power and position. Ofcourse, excuses were forthcoming on the grounds of his youth,and, as if trying to establish a right by two wrongs, it wasurged that he had simply done what most Russian youths do who areborn to high estate and have control of wealth. As a stepping-stone to the future greatness predicted for him by his friends,the Count, after a probationary course in the diplomatic serviceat home, was sent as an attaché to the Russian Embassy inParis. As might be supposed, he took kindly to Parisian life. Hewas what is usually termed an elegant young man, with aesthetictastes. When he first went to Paris he was about eight-and-twenty, and, apart from the advantages of youth, he had wealth,good looks, sound health, and a cheerful disposition. He enjoyedlife, and showed no disposition to mortify the flesh by anaustere or monastic regime. His private residence in the ChampsElysées was conspicuous for the magnificence of its appointments,and was the rendezvous of the élite of Parissociety—that frivolous section which lives for no higherpurpose than to live, and is attracted to wealth and luxury asbees are attracted to sugar. It seemed that this apparentlyfortunate young man, who could be serious enough when occasionrequired, was fond of attention and homage. He loved to besurrounded with a crowd of admirers, who flattered him, praisedhis bric-à-brac, and gorged themselves with the goodthings he invariably set before them. He knew, no doubt, thatthey were all fawners and sycophants, but, still, they made up alittle world over which he ruled, and wherever he led the noodleswould follow.

Two years of this sort of life passed, and then Danevitch wasinstructed to proceed with all haste from Russia to try anddiscover what had become of the Count, for he had suddenly andmysteriously disappeared, and all efforts of the Paris police andthe boasted skill of the Parisian detectives had failed to reveala trace of him. The facts of the case were as follows: In thecourse of the month of January the Count gave a grand ball andreception at his elegant hotel, and the event drew together thegilded youth of both sexes. These functions at the Count'sresidence were always marked by a magnificence of splendour and alavish expenditure which seemed hardly consonant with hisposition as a mere attaché. But it must not be forgotten that hewas the heir to great wealth, and represented a noble family whohad ever been distinguished for the almost regal style in whichthey lived.

About two o'clock in the morning the Count drew an intimatefriend of his—a Monsieur Eugène Peon—on one side, andtold him he wanted to slip away for an hour, but he did not wish*t to be known that he had gone out. He would be sure to be backin about an hour, he added. A few minutes later the concierge sawhim leave the hall. He was attired in a very handsome and costlyfur coat, with a cap to match; and though the weather wasbitterly cold and the ground covered with snow, he wore patent-leather shoes. The concierge, who was much surprised at the factof his master leaving the house in the midst of the revels, askedhim if he wanted a carriage. To this question the Count answeredcurtly, and, according to the porter, angrily,'No.' The nightwore itself out. The dancers danced themselves into limpness andprostration, and began to depart. Some surprise had beenexpressed at the Count's absence, and various inquiries had beenmade about him; but it was suggested that the seductiveinfluences of the wine-cup had proved too much for him, and hehad retired. This hint or suggestion appeared to satisfy thelight-headed revellers, who gave no further thought to thematter. His friend, Eugène Peon, considered it very strange thatthe Count should go away and remain away in such a manner, to theneglect of his guests, for he was the most punctilious host. ButPeon set it down to an assignation, and thought that he had foundthe society of some fair one more attractive than the glitter andglare of the ballroom. The day had very well advanced beforethere was anything like real surprise felt at the Count'sprolonged absence.

It appeared that Eugène Peon called at his friend's hotel soonafter three o'clock in the afternoon, and, ascertaining that hewas not at home, went down to the Embassy to impure for himthere, but to his astonishment was informed that the Count hadnot been there for two days. Although astonished, Peon was notuneasy. He stated that he saw no cause to be uneasy, although hehad never known his friend do such a thing before, and was awarethat he was most attentive to his duties. When he called again onthe following morning, however, and was informed that the Countwas still absent, he began then to fear that something was wrong,and he at once communicated his fears to some of the Count'sclose personal friends; he had no relations in Paris at all. Aconsultation was held, but there seem to have been dividedcounsels, and no steps were taken to ascertain the Count'swhereabouts, though some inquiries were made of the members ofthe household, but all that could be elicited was that theconcierge saw his master go out about two o'clock, and that hewas dressed in patent-leather boots, a heavy fur coat, and a furcap. From the tone in which he said 'No' when asked if he wanteda carriage, he appeared to be angry; but there was no indicationin his gait or speech that he was under the influence of wine. Itwas not until another whole day had passed that anything likereal alarm had set in. The alarm by this time had reached theEmbassy, and it was decided that the police should becommunicated with. Strangely enough, the police did not at firstattach any serious importance to the matter. They made certaininquiries in a perfunctory manner, and for some inscrutablereason—unless it was sheer, downright pig-headedness, aquality often enough conspicuous in the French police— theycame to the conclusion that 'Monsieur le Comte' had been guiltyof some little escapade, and would turn up very shortly. As thisprediction had not been fulfilled when another twenty-four hourshad elapsed, a much more serious view was taken of the youngman's absence, and dark hints were let drop that he had beeninveigled into one of the haunts of vice which abound in the gaycity, and had been murdered. The murder theory was at once takenup; detectives were communicated with, and the theory of murderfound general acceptance.

As may be imagined, a gentleman, who by reason of his positionand his riches had cut a conspicuous figure in society,disappearing suddenly in this way was bound to cause a sensation,and as the Parisians dearly love a sensation and a scandal, thematter was a fruitful topic of conversation for several days,while much ink was expended over it by the journalists. Butnotwithstanding the publicity given to the matter, and theefforts of police and detectives, another week passed, and not atrace or sign of the missing man had been obtained.

Up to this point the Count's relatives in Russia had not beencommunicated with, from a desire to avoid alarm, for there werethose who still hoped he would turn up again all right: but nowhis Russian friends in Paris regarded the affair as too seriousto be longer withheld. As a preliminary, a message was at oncesent asking if the Count had returned home, and almostsimultaneously with the despatch of that message a courier setout for Russia with the tidings and details.

As the Count—as far as was known—had not returnedto Russia, great consternation was caused amongst his friends bythe report that reached them, and no time was lost in securingthe services of Danevitch, who was instructed to leave for Pariswithout a moment's delay, and institute independentinquiries.

'I found, on arriving in the French capital,' says Danevitch,'that by order of the Russian Ambassador all the Count's thingshad been sealed up and his house temporarily closed. Mypreliminary investigations were directed to trying to discover ifthere were any grounds for believing that the missing man hadcommitted suicide. This inquiry was necessarily forced uponone—at any rate upon me, although I learnt that thepossibilities of suicide had never entered the heads of theFrench police. And though at first they had suggested murder,they soon abandoned that idea, for no other reason, as itappeared, than that they had not been able to find his body. Andin consequence of this they insisted that he had taken himselfoff to some other country in order to avoid the results ofconduct unbecoming a gentleman and a member of the Embassy. Whenthey were asked to give a name to his conduct, they declined, butdarkly hinted at something very dreadful. I myself could find nogrounds for the theory of suicide, while everyone at the Embassy,as well as all who knew him, indignantly repudiated the slurwhich was sought to be cast upon the young gentleman's character.I could find no one who had a word to say against his honour.That he might have had affaires d'amour, as the Frenchcall them, was readily admitted; but as all is considered fair inlove, as in war, these matters were not supposed to reflect onthe honour of a man.

'As Monsieur Eugène Peon had been very intimate with theCount, I questioned that gentleman very closely concerning hisfriend's movements, and elicited that he had been a prettygeneral lover, but, so far as he knew, the Count had formed noserious attachment to anybody. Peon could suggest no reason whythe Count should have left his guests so abruptly, unless it wasto keep an assignation.

'Now, it must be remembered that when he left his house it wasabout two o'clock on a winter morning, and, according to theconcierge, he seemed angry when he went out. This seemed to me topoint to two things as absolutely certain. Firstly, the Count'sgoing out at such an hour was not premeditated. Secondly,whatever appointment he went to keep, it was not an agreeable oneto him, and, being annoyed, he displayed his irritation in thesharp answer he gave the concierge. These points seemed to me ofgreat importance, and naturally led me to an inquiry directed tofinding out if one of his servants had delivered any message tohim, or conveyed any letter during the evening.

'The servants had been dismissed, and it was not an easymatter to reach them all; but by persevering I succeeded in doingso, and found at last that the Count's body-servant, a Frenchman,named Auguste Chauzy, had been out all the evening, after havingdressed his master, and knowing that he would not be wanted againuntil the morning. He returned, however, soon after midnight, andjust as he was about to enter the house, a man stepped up to himhurriedly, and, putting a sealed envelope into his hand, said,'Give that immediately to your master, Count Dashkoff. Fail notto do so, as it is a matter of life and death.'

'When Chauzy got into the hall, he glanced at the envelope,and saw that it simply bore the Count's name— no address;but in the left-hand corner was the French word Pressant(Urgent) underlined. The valet could not get near his master forsome time after this, but as soon as an opportunity occurred todo so, he handed him the note. The moment the Count's eye caughtthe superscription, a frown settled on his face, and, with agesture of annoyance, he thrust the letter unopened in hispocket. About half an hour later, however, the valet was informedby another servant that the Count required his fur coat and cap.They were to be placed in his dressing-room ready for him.

'I questioned Chauzy about the man who had handed him theletter in the street; but the only description he could give ofhim was that he seemed to be well dressed, was of medium height,and had a dark beard and moustache.'

Having brought to light the fact about the letter, Danevitchstruck a key-note, as it were—and one which had not beentouched upon by the French police. If that letter could have beenfound, it might have revealed much; but it was almost certainthat if the Count did not destroy it before leaving the house hehad it in his pocket when he went out. Danevitch's deduction fromthe letter incident was this: The Count went out owing to somecommunication made to him in that letter. He did not gowillingly; consequently his errand was a disagreeable one, andcould hardly have been to keep a love tryst. Whoever the writerof the letter was, he or she must have had some powerful hold onthe Count to induce him to leave his friends and guests, and goout at two o'clock on a bitter winter morning. This line ofreasoning was one which Danevitch could not avoid, for it was hiswont to argue his subject from a given set of premises, and astrict regard for probabilities. He was led—and it was butnatural he should be—to the conclusion that the Count'sdisappearance was due to conduct which had brought him in contactwith unscrupulous people, into whose power he had fallen. It wasclear that if he was still living he was forcibly detainedsomewhere or other, and was in such a position that he could notcommunicate with those who were so anxious about him. If this wasnot the case, it was hard to understand why he should haveremained silent, knowing well enough the anxiety and distress hisprolonged absence would cause.

The other hypothesis was—the idea of suicide not beingentertained—that he had been murdered. If that was thecase, the motive for the murder was either revenge or robbery. Itseemed almost absurd to think of robbery, for this reason: it washardly likely that anyone would have chosen such an inopportunemoment; for, at two o'clock in the morning, and entertaining ahouse full of guests, he would scarcely have much valuableproperty on his person. If he had been murdered, the crime hadbeen prompted by feelings of revenge, and committed by someonewho believed he had a deadly grievance against the youngman—a grievance that could only be compensated for by theshedding of the Count's blood.

It was impossible to ignore what, on the face of it, seemed tobe a fact—that the writer of the letter was personallyacquainted with the Count, and possessed knowledge which placed aweapon in his hand. Of course, the Count's friends wouldn'tlisten for a moment to any suggestion that he had been guilty ofconduct unbecoming a gentleman, and, having discovered that,Danevitch kept his views to himself; though he closely questionedEugène Peon, who, while admitting that he had had numerous littleadventures with the Count, declared that these adventures wereonly those which a young, handsome, and rich man would engage in,and while they might be described as foolish and reckless, theywere never of a nature to reflect upon his honour. They were, inshort, simply the follies and venial sins of youth, such as werecommon, in a greater or lesser degree, to all young men. Nothingfurther than this could be elicited from Peon, who appeared to bea reserved and reticent person, giving Danevitch the impressionthat he always had something in reserve—that he had anarrière pensée, and would not tell more than it suited himto tell. At any rate, he declined to suggest any theory thatwould account for his friend's sudden and mysteriousdisappearance.

'Do you not know if he had any serious love affair?' askedDanevitch with some sharpness, as he came to the conclusion thatPeon was not as candid as he ought to be.

'I don't,' answered Peon emphatically.

'But surely, intimate as you were with him, you must knowsomething of your friend's little gallantries?'

'I do not, beyond what I have told you.'

Peon gave this answer with a sharpness and decisiveness whichmade it clear that he would not submit to pumping, and would notbe drawn on the subject of his friend's amours.

During the time that Danevitch was searching for aclue—without avail up to this stage—the Count'sfriends did not remain inactive. Necessarily, they wereimpatient, and grew more restless as the weeks sped by withoutbringing any tidings of the missing man. The police confessedthemselves baffled, and seemed to be at a loss to suggest afeasible theory, and they urged the friends to offer asubstantial reward for information that would lead to thediscovery of the Count if living, and a lesser reward for hisbody if dead. The friends yielded, and intimated that they wouldpay ten thousand francs for the Count's recovery living, or fivethousand for his body.

The police quite believed this reward would have the desiredeffect, and that they would be relieved from an embarrassingsituation. Of course, the human water-rats who haunt the Seinekept a very sharp look-out indeed, and every corpse that theydragged from the foul and reeking waters of the sluggish riverwas eagerly scrutinized in the hope that it would turn out to bethe body of the missing Count. But though it was reported severaltimes that the dead Count had been fished out of the river, thereport, on investigation, proved to be false. Nor did the offerof the ten thousand francs prove more potent. Not a trace of themissing man was discovered.

This failure of the substantial reward to bring forth anytidings confirmed Danevitch in the opinion he had formed that theCount's disappearance was the result of some plot, and thoseengaged in it were in a position which rendered them indifferentto the reward. This did not imply that the detective consideredit a certainty that the Count was living. On the contrary, heinclined to the belief that he had been murdered, but,necessarily, the murderers could not produce his body for fear ofbetraying themselves. In his own way, Danevitch worked awayquietly and unostentatiously. He was perfectly convinced that theclue to the mystery would be found in the habits of the Count, oramong some of his possessions. But the friends in Paris opposedstrong objections to any exhaustive search of his effects beingmade, influenced thereby, no doubt, by a fear of anything beingmade public calculated to reflect on the missing man's honour.This supersensitiveness was annoying, and at last Danevitchapplied to the relatives in Russia, and asked them to give aperemptory order for him to be allowed to go through the Count'spapers. In response to this application, the Count's father cameat once to Paris, and took possession of everything belonging tohis son, and he and Danevitch went through the papers together.There was a mass of official correspondence and business letters,but very few private letters, except those from his parents andhis near relatives, and love-letters from a young lady residingin Russia. She was of high family, and well known to the Count'speople, who hoped that he would ultimately make her his wife, asin even-way the match was a desirable one. The letters evinced avery strong attachment on the lady's part, and were in manyinstances couched in warm, even extravagant, phrases of love. Butthere was nothing in them calculated to throw light on themystery. She knew of her lover's disappearance, and wasprostrated with grief and anxiety, so the Count's fatherasserted.

The result of the examination of the papers so far was verydisappointing, but a small diary was found in which were somerather remarkable passages. It was not a diary of doings andevents from day to day, but seemed to be the outpourings of thewriter's feelings and emotions, written in a fitful and irregularmanner. Those which struck Danevitch the most were asfollows:

* * * * *

'I often wonder whether we are really free and responsiblebeings; whether the evil we do is the result of deliberatesinning, or whether it is due to some inward promptings which weare absolutely powerless to resist. If the latter, to what extentcan we be held liable for our sins? I am sorely troubled at timeswith this thought, and yearn for someone to whom I could appealwith a hope of receiving such an answer as would seem to mesatisfactory. The teachings of my Church do not satisfy me. TheChurch says that to do evil is to incur the wrath of Heaven; butif I cannot resist doing; evil, is it right that I should be heldresponsible? Of course, the world would say that this issophistry, but when I find myself on the one hand trying with allmy might to avoid doing anything which, according to the laws ofethics and the canons of the Church, could be construed intowrongdoing, and, on the other, being drawn by some vaguelydefined power, which I am too weak to resist, into doing thatwhich I am conscious it is not right to do, I ask myself if I canreally be held responsible. It seems to me that I have twodistinct characters, clearly separated, and entirely antagonisticto each other. The one leads me into paths that I would fainavoid; the other causes me to weep for my frailty. I wonder ifall men are constituted like this? Perhaps they are, but are lesssensitive than I am.'

* * * * *

'IF a man entangles himself in a net, he may exhaust himselfin his struggles to get free again, and it may even be that themore he struggles the more tightly he may enmesh himself, untilhe realizes the horror that he is doomed to remain powerlessuntil death itself releases him. This is figurative language, butit is by such language that we can best convey our true meaning.It is but speaking in parables, and parables better than anythingelse often enable us to understand and grasp what would otherwisebe obscure. Unhappily, I am entangled in a net, and I havestruggled in vain to free myself. If I could undo the past, Imight know true happiness once more; but that which is done isdone, and though we weep tears of blood, we can never obliteratethe record which is written on the tablets of memory. I wonderwhat the pure being in Russia, to whom I gave my heart, would sayif she knew how I had wronged her. Can I ever look into her clearhonest eyes again with the frank, unflinching gaze of the happydays past and gone? I fear not. Indeed, I feel that I dare notmeet her again. I have dug a gulf between us, and that gulf cannever be bridged. But I suffer agony of mind when I think how shewill suffer when she knows my baseness, as know she must, sooneror later. It is hard to have to live two lives, as I am doing. Tomy friends I appear all they would believe me to be; but in thesolitude of my chamber my heart bleeds as I realize how false Iam.'

* * * * *

'I have been weak, but am growing strong again. Desperation islending me strength, in fact; and I shall burst these accursedbonds asunder. I have still youth and energy, and must make aneffort to climb to higher heights. I have been walking blindlyhitherto, and have missed my way, but I see it clear enough now;and a resolute and determined man, who finds himself surroundedby obstacles, should sweep them away. He who hesitates is lost; Ihave hesitated, but will do so no longer. Great things areexpected from me, and I must not disappoint those who have placedtheir hopes upon me. Marie must not be allowed to keep me bounddown in the gutter. It is not my place. I was destined to walk onhigher heights; and since it is impossible for me to raise her,she must be cut adrift. It may seem cowardly; it may be cruel forme to do this; but it must be done, for I cannot endure thedouble life any longer. Is a man to suffer all his life for onefalse step? Am I justified in breaking the hearts of parents andbetrothed? No. It must not be—shall not be. In a few weeksI shall send in my resignation, and quit Paris for ever. It willcause a nine days' wonder, but what of that? People will say I ama fool, but it won't affect me. I shall plead that I know my ownaffairs best, and that circ*mstances of a private and pressingnature necessitate my hasty return to Russia. This I amdetermined to do, cost what it may. I have taken Eugène Peon intomy confidence. He will help me, and satisfy the curious when I amgone.'

* * * * *

THERE was a significance in the foregoing passages which wasnot lost upon Danevitch. The Count gave himself away, though, ofcourse, he never expected that any eves but his own would readwhat he had written. It will be said, of course, that it wasfoolish for him to have committed his thoughts to paper; thoughit must be remembered that there are some men who seem to derivea strange pleasure in recording their evil deeds. It is a well-known fact that some of the greatest criminals have kept diaries,in which they have written the most damning evidence of theirguilt. The Count's diary proved conclusively that there werecertain ugly passages in his life, and two points were madeclear—there was a woman in the case, and Eugène Peon knewmore of the Count's affairs than he cared to own to, andconfirmed Danevitch in his belief that Peon was a crafty man, andby no means carried his heart upon his sleeve.

As may be imagined, the Count's father was much cut up, as herealized that his son had been guilty of evil which wascalculated to reflect upon the honour of the family, that honourof which the old man was so proud, and which he would gladly havedied to shield.

Of course it became necessary now to find out who the 'Marie'referred to in the diary was; for it was obvious that she wasdirectly or indirectly responsible for the Count's disappearance.No letters could be discovered which were calculated to throw anylight on the subject, but in a small drawer of the Count's deskthere was found the photograph of a young woman, and on the back,in a scrawling hand, was the following:

'For ever and ever thine. Marie.'

The likeness was that of a singularly handsome girl ofabout two-and-twenty; but the handwriting was so bad it suggestedthat the writer was not educated.

Danevitch felt now that he was in possession of a clue—a vague one, it was true, but it was possible it might lead tovery important results. Marie must be found, though he did notknow at the moment how he was going to find her. Paris was a bigplace; Marie was a very common name. Danevitch, however, havingonce got on the scent, was not likely to go very far astray, andhe generally found some means of bringing down his quarry atlast. He was not indifferent to the self-evident fact that inthis case there were no ordinary difficulties to contend against;this was proved by the large reward having failed to bring forthany information. It showed that those who were responsible forthe Count's disappearance had very powerful motives for keepingtheir secret; and whether few or many were interested in thatsecret, ten thousand francs was not strong enough to tempt one ofthem; and it seemed as if it was not the Count's money that wasresponsible for his disappearance. He kept a banking account inParis, but this had not been drawn upon since the week before hewent away, when he cashed a cheque for three thousand francs. Butat this stage a curious incident was brought to light, which puta new complexion on the matter altogether.

The incident was this: It appeared that the Count also kept aconsiderable account at the Moscow branch of the Bank of Russia.He owned a good deal of property in and about Moscow, part of itbeing a flourishing flax-mill, which turned over a princelyrevenue. His Moscow affairs were managed by an agent who had beenconnected with the family for nearly half a century. It was hisduty to pay all money that he received into the bank withoutdelay. Consequently, there was generally a large balance standingto the Count's credit. One day a three months' bill of exchange,purporting to be drawn on the Count by Paul Pavlovitch and Co.,flax merchants, at Riga, for one hundred thousand francs, andaccepted by the Count and payable at the bank in Moscow, was dulypresented by an individual, who stated that he was a member ofthe firm. As all seemed right, the bill was paid, and a receiptgiven in the name of Peter Pavlovitch, who represented himself asthe son of Paul. A week later the cancelled bill passed into thehands of the Count's agent, and he at once declared it to be aforgery. Pavlovitch and Co., of Riga, were immediatelycommunicated with, and they denied all knowledge of the Count,had never had any business transactions with him, had never drawna bill upon him, and knew nothing of Peter Pavlovitch. This was arevelation indeed, and pointed conclusively to a conspiracy. Itseemed to Danevitch pretty evident that the person who forged thebill knew a good deal about the Count, and if that person couldbe laid hold of the plot might be unmasked. There was anotherthing, too, that appeared to be no less clear: the forger of thebill was acquainted with the Count's affairs, and also withRussia. The firm of Paul Pavlovitch and Co., of Riga, was an old-established firm, and there was nothing to strike a stranger aspeculiar in their holding a bill of the Count's; for the Countwas the owner of a flax-mill, and did business with a good manyflax merchants. Nevertheless, the bank in Moscow was blamed forhaving been somewhat lax in paying the bill without having takensteps to satisfy themselves that the person who presented it wasthe person he represented himself to be. Moreover, in thebusiness world bills of that nature were usually collected by abank. However, the Moscow bank people defended themselves bysaying that, though a little out of course, there was nothingextraordinary in a bill being presented by a member of a firmholding it.

As soon as Danevitch heard of the incident of the forged bill,he returned at once to Moscow, deeming it probable that he mightthere pick up some thread which would lead him to a clue. The mancalling himself Peter Pavlovitch, to whom the money was paid, wasdescribed as of medium height, of muscular build, dark-complexioned, black hair, beard, and moustache, in age aboutthirty. He was well dressed, and the receipt he gave was writtenin a bold, clerkly hand. Of course, there was nothing in thisdescription to distinguish him from thousands of others, andMoscow was a large place; but Danevitch went to work on theassumption that the man, whoever he might be, was well acquaintedwith the Count, and he knew a good deal of his business; that, tosome extent, narrowed the inquiry, which was necessarily directedto trying to discover a person upon whom suspicion couldjustifiably fasten.

The Count's agent was a Pole named Padrewski. He was a man ofhigh repute, and one in whom his employer placed the greatestconfidence. He could not even vaguely identify the self-styled'Peter Pavlovitch' from the description given, and was of opinionthat he was not a resident in Moscow, though probably not astranger. If he was not a resident in the city, it was likelyenough that he sojourned there long enough to enable him totransact his business, and having possessed himself of the money,he would depart without delay. Danevitch ascertained that thebill was presented for payment about half-past ten in themorning. That argued that the person who drew the money and gavethe receipt had slept in the city, and probably lodged at somecafé or hotel. So the detective set to work at once to makeinquiries at the various hotels and lodging-houses. In Russia, asin France and Germany, every lodging-house-keeper and hotelproprietor is compelled by law to keep a register of his guests.It is therefore far easier to discover anyone who occupiestemporary lodgings than it is in this country. Now, it struckDanevitch that, if the presenter of the forged bill had come toMoscow for the sole purpose of drawing the money, he would in allprobability select a place near the railway-station. There wereseveral hotels and cafés in the vicinity of the station. At allof these inquiries were made, and, at a third-rate café-restaurant, called in Russian The Traveller's Joy, it wasfound that a man answering the description of the one requiredhad stayed in the house for four days, and had taken hisdeparture by train on the same day that the bill was presented;and on that very day he had paid his account with a brand-newfive hundred rouble note, receiving the change in small money. Asthe restaurant-keeper could not cash the note himself, he got itdone at a money-changer's in the neighbourhood. The money-changermade an entry of the number of the note, and by that Danevitchwas able to prove that it was one of the notes paid by the bankto 'Peter Pavlovitch.' This, of course, was an importantdiscovery, as it conclusively proved that the man who handed thenote to the landlord was the one who got the money for the forgedbill. This was an important link, and another was soondiscovered.

'From information received,' to quote the common police-courtexpression, Danevitch learnt that during the time the pseudoPeter Pavlovitch was staying at The Traveller's Joy he wasvisited daily by a pretty young woman, who, from her manner,style of dress, and general get-up, was supposed to be connectedwith the theatrical profession. Every evening Peter went out withher, then both returned together and supped, and after that wentout again, and some time later Peter returned alone. Thededuction from this was, assuming she belonged to the theatricalprofession, that Peter took her to the theatre at night, broughther back to supper after she had done her work, and then saw herhome to her lodgings.

Fortunately, a very minute description of the woman wasforthcoming, and from this Danevitch ultimately identified her asa Fräulein Holzstein, supposed to be of Austrian or Germannationality. She was a music-hall singer, and had been fulfillingan engagement at a hall in Moscow, but had then left and gone toa place of entertainment in St. Petersburg, whither Danevitchjourneyed without delay. He soon discovered the lady he wasseeking, but was very cautious not to let her know that she wasunder surveillance.

He had no difficulty in making her acquaintance, in thecapacity of a man about town who enjoyed the privilege of beingallowed on the stage; and on one or two occasions she deigned toaccept an invitation to sup with him. He learnt from her thatwhen her engagement terminated in St. Petersburg, as it would doin a few days, she was going to Vienna for a week, thence toBerlin for a fortnight, and after that to Paris to perform in asensational drama at the Chatelet. Danevitch was nowinstinctively certain that he was on the trail, and he resolvednot to lose it.

Therefore, when Fräulein Holzstein took her departure from theRussian capital, he left by the same train, though she was notaware of it. He followed her to Vienna, from Vienna to Berlin,from Berlin to Paris. When she arrived at Paris she was met by aman who was at once identified from the description Danevitch hadreceived as the man who had presented the forged bill for paymentat the Moscow bank.

The scent was now getting warm, but at this stage it wouldhave been premature to have taken any steps calculated tofrighten the quarry which was being so patiently shadowed. Thisman and woman were not the only actors in the drama, if, as wasthought probable, they were in any way connected with the Count'sdisappearance; and Danevitch had yet to prove that there was anyconnection between that incident and the forged bill.

The man who had passed himself off as Peter Pavlovitch inMoscow was known in Paris as Henri Charcot, and by calling he wasa theatrical and music-hall agent. He rented a small office notvery far from the Chatelet Theatre; but, judging fromappearances, he was not in a very flourishing way of business,although Danevitch gathered that at one time he had had anextensive connection. He had lost it, however, by inattention andshady practices. Fraulein Holzstein was, or at any raterepresented herself to be, the wife of Charcot.

Another discovery was now made by the patient and watchfulDanevitch. A man was in the habit of visiting the Charcots. Heoccupied a much higher social position than they did; but it wasmade evident he did not care for his visits being known to otherpeople, for he always went at night, and invariably wore a cloakof such ample proportions that his figure was practicallydisguised, while a broad-brimmed, soft hat served to conceal hisfeatures. The Charcots lived in rather a poor quarter of Paris,not far from the Gare de L'Est. In this region was a very popularand much-frequented restaurant, largely patronized by theinhabitants of the neighbourhood. The Charcots invariably wentthere to dine. And when the strange man visited them, hegenerally went with them to dine or sup, as the case might be, onthose occasions. They indulged in the privacy of a cabinetparticulière, as it is called in France—that is to say,a private room.

One night the three went to the restaurant for dinner, andwere shown into a snug cabinet, where a small stove dispensed acomforting warmth, for the night was excessively cold, and toprotect the occupants from draught a heavy screen was drawnbetween the table and the window. When the coffee and cognac wereplaced on the table, and Madame Charcot and the two men hadlighted their cigarettes, the waiter was dismissed and the doorclosed. Then the lady and her two companions, feeling under norestraint, freely indulged in conversation.

'Do you people intend to remain in Paris?' asked thestranger.

'Yes, I think so,' replied Charcot. 'I don't see that there ismuch to fear. No one suspects us, and it is not worth whilegiving up our business, such as it is.'

'You feel sure that your visit to Russia in connection withthe bill is not known?'

'Perfectly sure. My wife and I managed the business toocleverly for suspicion to be directed against us.'

'But you mustn't forget that Michael Danevitch has got thematter in hand.'

Madame Charcot broke into a mocking laugh, as sheexclaimed:

'Pooh! There is nothing to fear from Danevitch. He is a verymuch over-rated man. All the wonderful stories that one hearsabout him are, I believe, invented by himself; any way, I am notafraid of him. It seems to me that it was impossible for anyoneto get a clue in Russia. No, mon frère; the business hasbeen managed too cleverly, and unless we give ourselves away weare perfectly safe.'

'I am not so sure of that,' answered the strangermusingly.

'But you've not heard or seen anything to cause you alarm,have you?' asked Charcot.

'No, no, not at all,' said the stranger, pulling his moustacheand looking grave; 'but one never knows.'

'You are surely in a despondent mood, cher frère. Thedinner must have disagreed with you,' madame remarkedbanteringly.

'The dinner was all right; but I haven't been easy in my mindfor some time.'

'It's the liver, the liver, my dear boy,' Charcotremarked.

'What's the use of troubling yourself about shadows?' put inthe lady. 'Haven't the Paris police used some of their best men,and yet failed to get a scent?'

'That's true,' said the stranger; 'but the affair must come tolight sooner or later.'

'And what if it does?' asked madame. 'How are we to beidentified with the case?'

'Not easily, if he is dead,' answered the stranger. 'The deadtell no tales.'

'Then, why in the name of common-sense should he live? askedMadame Charcot, blowing a stream of smoke from her nostrils, andspeaking with energy.

The stranger shuddered, and said:

'I'll have nothing whatever to do with his death.'

'You are chicken-hearted, man,' Charcot remarked. 'One wordand an extra hundred francs to old Pierre, and every danger wouldbe removed.'

'It might, or might not. Any way, I would rather not speak theword. The business has been bungled as it is, and instead of itsproving a source of wealth to us, we only made a miserablehundred thousand francs between us, and it's hopeless to expectthat we can get any more.'

'You should have played your cards better,' remarkedCharcot.

'But who in the name of Satan thought that he was going to pegout as he has done.'

'Well, there is one thing we mustn't forget,' said madame;'unless Pierre's palms are kept well greased, he'll let the catout of the bag.'

'No, I don't think he will do that. He has already been wellpaid; and before I gave him the last thousand francs I made theold rascal sign a document, in which he confesses his share inthe business, so that if he turns traitor I've got him on thehip. But, any way, it strikes me this is not a safe place, and Ishall go abroad. No living soul suspects me, but one never knowswhat may happen; it's best to be on the safe side.'

'Well, you are a soldier of fortune,' said Charcot, 'and canmarch at an hour's notice; but we've got interests here, andunless danger really menaces, it would be folly for us tosacrifice those interests. What do you say?' turning to hiswife.

'Oh, I think it's all right. If we have reason to believethere is any danger, we can clear out; but my own impression isthat there is not much chance of our being suspected. Besides, wemust have more money yet. Fate has been against us in thatrespect. We bungled in the beginning, and are paying the penaltyof the error. By-and-by, however, we may be rewarded.'

I If you think so, you are much more of an optimist than Iam,' the stranger remarked.

'You've always been disposed to look on the gloomy side ofthings,' said madame sharply. 'What is the use of meeting troublehalf-way? We've played our cards, and must abide by the game. Atany rate, you've done fairly well, and fortune has favoured youthroughout your life. You've no just cause to grumble.'

'But suppose the game goes against us?' now asked thestranger.

'What is the use of supposing? It hasn't done so up to thepresent, and we've netted a fair stake.'

'But nothing nearly as much as Ave ought to have done.'

'That can't be helped. We've not lost, any way. But, forgoodness' sake, don't mope like that. You make me miserable.We've bled our victim pretty freely, and though he has plentymore blood in him, if we cannot get it, we had better besatisfied.'

'It's tantalizing, nevertheless. Don't you think we might riskanother bill here?'

'No; it would be too dangerous,' said madame.

'I would have nothing to do with it,' added her husband.

'Any attempt of that kind would betray us as sure as fate. No,no, mon cher; it can't be done.'

The stranger sighed, and resigned himself to the situation,for he was forced to admit that the arguments used against himwere unanswerable.

In a little while the party broke up. The stranger embracedthe woman warmly, and, shaking hands with the man, hurriedaway.

Charcot and his wife lingered for a while to smoke anothercigarette, and for the man to consume an absinthe.

'Eugène is melancholy,' the woman remarked; 'but it's folly toweep over the milk that is lost. If matters hadn't turned out asthey have done, we might all have raked in a snug little fortune.But, as it is, we haven't done so badly, and we're safe.'

'But not as safe as we should be if the Count were dead,' thehusband remarked.

'That's true,'said the woman thoughtfully, while her prettyface took on a very wicked expression. 'But you know Eugène isfar too sentimental. It doesn't do to be sentimental in a case ofthis kind. We've got ourselves to consider, and, having gone sofar, it is downright folly to hesitate to take the final step,which would complete the work. What do you think?'

'I agree with you.'

'Then, you go and see Pierre, and give him a quiet hint.'

'I've a good mind to,' mused the husband. 'Don't spoil a goodmind, dear.'

'But, you know, we should have to give the old rascal two orthree hundred francs more.'

'And it's worth it; we can afford it. Better to pay that thanallow a risk to remain that we can remove.'

'You are right—you are right, dear,' said thehusband.

'And you will go and see Pierre?'

'I must consider the matter.'

'Tut, man! What does it want consideration for? We arc agreedon the subject. Vacillation shows weakness. Hesitation may costus dear. Make up your mind at once.'

'It's made up,' said the husband, after some reflection.

'And you will go?'

'Yes.'

'When?'

'To-morrow morning.'

'Good. That's a point settled, and my mind is easier.'

The man and woman now took their departure; but little didthey dream that every word of the conversation which they and thestranger—who was none other than Eugène Peon—haduttered had been most carefully taken down in shorthand. Behindthe screen a young man had patiently sat the whole evening, withnote-book and pencil iii hand. He was a trusted agent ofDanevitch, who had made arrangements with the landlord of therestaurant. And thus the conspirators had been neatly trapped.Nevertheless, the story was not all learnt yet, and Danevitchconsidered it would have been premature to make any move or showhis hand until he found out where the Count was concealed. Ofcourse, a close watch was set on Eugène Peon's movements, so thatno chance should be afforded him of slipping through the meshesof the net which was so cleverly being drawn around him and hiscompanions in guilt.

Charcot was also closely shadowed, and the next day wasfollowed to an old house situated in the western part of Paris,outside of the barrier. It w as a curious, ramshackle, tumble-down-looking building, mournful and melancholy in its ruin, andmournful and melancholy in its surroundings. At one time it hadprobably been the country residence of some rich person, standingin pleasant gardens, on the banks of a stream, and commanding afine panoramic view. But that was in the long ago. The groundswere now a howling wilderness; the stream was a foul and stagnantstrip of slimy water, from which protruded the decaying ribs of ahalf-sunk barge.

Within twenty or thirty yards were the grim and blackenedruins of a burnt-out mill that at one period had been aflourishing concern. The stream communicated with a canal aquarter of a mile away, and time was when barges came and went.The house had been the private residence of the owner of themill, and he lived there for many years in contentment andcomfort with his wife and son and daughter. Then misfortuneovertook him. His daughter was accidentally drowned in thestream. Some time afterwards the son died of consumption. Thenthe unfortunate father gave way to dissipation, and neglected hisbusiness, with the usual result. At length the mill was destroyedby tire, and when the owner went to the insurance offices toclaim the amount for which he had insured, the people refused topay it, alleging that the fire was due to incendiarism, and acharge was laid against the unfortunate man; but he rendered ituseless by drowning himself in the stream. And his widow did notlong survive him; grief killed her.

Then litigation ensued about the property, and as a legal heircould not be found, it fell into ruin and neglect. For many yearsa man named Pierre Mousson had been allowed to occupy the place,subject to the payment of a nominal rental. He was a rag-pickerby calling, and a reputed miser: a low-browed, villainous-lookingrascal, who had once served a term of imprisonment for nearlybeating a companion to death during a quarrel about a franc,which he accused his companion of stealing from him. With thatexception, there had been no charge against him. He was a big,muscular old fellow, with a suggestiveness in his appearance thathe could be very dangerous in defence of himself or hisbelongings. His mother lived with him. She was an old woman,upwards of eighty years of age, and half imbecile.

To this place Charcot was followed by Danevitch and threeFrench police officers, all heavily armed; and while Charcot andold Pierre were conferring together, the Russian and hiscompanions entered, to the utter amazement of the two rascals,who were made prisoners before they could recover from theirsurprise. To both of them this coup must have been like athunderbolt, but perhaps more particularly so to Charcot, whoonly the night before seemed to think he was in little or nodanger. In a cellar or vault, below the level of the putridstream, a man was discovered in a state of idiocy. He was lyingon a low truckle bed, close to the damp, slimy wall, to which hewas fastened by a chain and staple, and a broad leather beltround his waist. The vault was foetid, and inconceivably horriblewith filth and noisomeness, and the wretched man's feet and handshad been partly gnawed by rats. That man was Count Dashkoff, theonce brilliant and handsome attaché, but now a pitiableand unrecognisable wreck. His hair was matted with slime anddirt, his beard unkempt, his eyes sunken, his face awful in itscorpse-like appearance. His body was so emaciated that he wassimply an animated skeleton, while the few rags that clung to hisvermin-covered body scarcely sufficed to hide his nakedness.

As soon as possible, the poor fellow was removed in anambulance to a hospital, the imbecile old woman was conveyed toan asylum, while Charcot and Pierre were hurried to prison. Anhour later Eugène Peon and Madame Charcot were arrested, andbefore the day was out—thanks to certain letters found inMadame Charcot's possession—another man was being searchedfor. His name was Buhler, and he had recently acted as secretaryto the Count, replacing a young man who had died. Buhler was aRussian, but had long resided in Paris. He was recommended to theCount by Eugène Peon. As was subsequently proved, Buhler had oncebefore fulfilled the position of a secretary, but been dismissedfor dishonesty. Since then he had got his living as a waiter,until he became a creature of Peon's. The strangest part of thetale has now to be told.

As most people know, the mode of procedure in France inconnection with criminal cases is very different to that adoptedin England. In a certain sense it partakes somewhat of the natureof the Inquisition. A functionary, who is known as a Judge ofInstruction, Juge d'Instruction, with his assistants andclerks, subjects a suspected person to an ordeal of examinationwhich few can pass through unscathed, unless they be absolutelyinnocent. The Judge is a legal man of wide experience, andgenerally with a very intimate knowledge of human nature. He isan adept in the art of cross examination, and the 'suspect' mustbe clever indeed if he can outwit this examining Judge. Whereseveral persons are under suspicion of complicity, they areconfronted with each other, and very rarely do they fail tocondemn themselves, and betray their guilt, if they are guilty,under the pitiless fire of questioning to which they aresubjected. In this way the truth is brought to light, and pieceby piece a story is built up. The story that was partly wrungfrom the prisoners in this case, and partly learnt from othersources, was as follows:

Years before the events already narrated, an Austrian namedSchumacher took up his residence in Paris, with his wife and twodaughters, named respectively Rosine and Anna, and a son. Fritz.The girls were at that time quite children. Schumacher, who was acabinet-maker by trade, and his family ultimately becamenaturalized French subjects. As the girls grew up, they developedremarkable beauty; but this was allied to vulgar tastes and loosehabits, well calculated to bring them to trouble sooner or later.At quite an early age they showed talent for the stage, and beganlife at a café-chantant. In the course of time Annamarried a theatrical and music-hall agent named Charcot; andRosine, who seems to have had numerous lovers, joined atheatrical company, and travelled for some time, but ultimatelysecured a permanent engagement at a Paris theatre. Soon afterthat, when she was only one-and-twenty years of age, and notedfor her good looks, she made the acquaintance of Count Dashkoff.The Count was young, impressionable, foolish; the girl artful,cunning, clever. And there is no doubt she resolved to play hercards with a view to gaining a powerful influence over the Count.In this matter she was aided and abetted by her brother Fritz,though that gentleman was no longer known as Fritz.

At quite an early age Fritz had come under the notice of anold and rather eccentric lady, who sent him to school, fosteredin him expensive tastes, luxurious habits, and led him to dreamof future greatness. He received a good education, and spent fouryears—from sixteen to twenty— at the Lyceum.Unfortunately for him, his patroness died. It was then foundthat, though she had made a will leaving a million and a halffrancs to the young man, she was not worth a million sous. Shehad simply enjoyed a life interest in a property which producedher a handsome income, though she expended it to the last souevery year. Fritz had also taken her name of Peon, and hadsubstituted Eugène for that of Fritz.

To find himself penniless was a great blow to his hopes andpride. His natural talents and the education he had receivedshould have enabled him to have done well, but he hated work; helacked energy, and so he set himself to live by his wits. He wasa fascinating young fellow, with the power of attracting both menand women. When he made the acquaintance of the Count, the Countat once took to him, and Peon was far too clever to lose such anopportunity of benefiting himself; for clever as the Count was,he was rash and weak-minded in many respects, and no match for anunscrupulous adventurer like Peon, who arranged with his sisterRosine that they were to keep their relationship secret, and useevery endeavour to trap the Count into a marriage. Rosine wasquite equal to playing her part in this nefarious little scheme.Her fascinations proved too much for the Count, and when he foundthat she was deaf to all his entreaties, and proof against hiscostly presents, he came to the conclusion that she was a modelwoman, a paragon of virtue, a credit to her sex, and in an evilhour he married her. After that it did not take him long todiscover what a terrible error he had made. The wife's rapacityfor money, jewellery, dress, was insatiable, and her brotherEugène took good care to share her purse.

For a considerable time the Count yielded to the bleedingprocess tamely; and his secretary, Buhler, working in connectionwith Peon and Rosine, succeeded in drawing from him large sums ofmoney. Of course, all this time the unhappy Count believed thathis friend Eugène Peon was true and reliable, that Bub lei- wasthe most faithful of secretaries, and he began to yearn for somemeans of breaking the matrimonial bond with which he had boundhimself. He found that Rosine had developed a taste for drink; heencouraged this in every possible way, and induced herparticularly to consume large quantities of absinthe. The resultwas, she soon became a confirmed dipsomaniac; and one night, tothe horror of the band of conspirators, she either threw herselfinto the Seine or fell in accidentally; at any rate, she wasdrowned. That was at a little village about twenty miles fromParis, where the Count had installed her, and where, under anarrangement with him, she lived as a single woman.

Peon, Bidder, and Anna Charcot and her husband managed to keepthe news of his wife's death from the Count, and he was given tounderstand that she had taken herself off somewhere. A few monthspassed, and the conspirators felt the loss of their suppliesseverely. Then, in their desperation, they concocted a schemewhich, for daring and wickedness, had not been surpassed for along time. The scheme was nothing more nor less than theabduction of the Count, who was to be kept a prisoner until hesecured his release by the payment of a large ransom.

The night of the ball was chosen as a fitting opportunity toput the plan into execution. Bidder wrote a letter closelyimitating Rosine's handwriting. The letter stated that she hailbeen away from Paris, but hail come back seriously ill, and wasthen unable to leave her bed. She craved him to go and see herimmediately, and promised that, if he would give her a sum ofmoney down, she would go away and he should never hear of heragain, if not, she would proclaim the following morning to allParis that she was his lawful wife, and would also send anintimation to that effect to the Embassy. The note wound up bysaying that a carriage would be in waiting not far from his houseto convey him to her lodgings, and I hat he could easily get backagain in an hour or an hour and a half.

This letter was delivered to the Count in the way that we haveseen, and, unhappily for himself, he was influenced by it. Hefound the carriage at the spot indicated, and was driven out tothe barrier to Pierre's house. Two powerful ruffians, who were tobe well paid for their part of the work, had ridden on the boxbeside the coachman. When the destination was reached, the Countalighted, and then the lonely spot seems to have caused him tosuspect that he had been brought there for some villainouspurpose. He at once stepped into the carriage again, and orderedthe coachman to drive him back to Paris. The two ruffians,however, seized him and dragged him out on to the road, where adesperate struggle took place. To put an end to it, one of therascals struck the unhappy Count a violent blow over the headwith a heavy stick, rendering him unconscious. He was thencarried into Pierre's den.

For two days he remained insensible, and when he recovered itwas found, to the horror of all the wretches concerned, that hewas imbecile, but it was hoped that he would be all right in afew days. These hopes, however, were doomed to disappointment,and, being pressed for money, Buhler undertook to forge a bill,and Madame Charcot, who was then fulfilling an engagement inMoscow, was instructed to find out something of the Count'sbusiness transactions there; while Charcot went to Moscow, and,representing himself as Peter Pavlovitch, presented the forgedbill at the bank and received payment for it. The money was, ofcourse, shared by all concerned. Bidder, who seems to have beenshrewder than the rest of them, having got his share, andpossessed himself of such portable property of the Count's as hecould lay his hands upon, took himself off somewhere, and managedto elude justice, though every effort was made to capturehim.

As already stated, all this terrible story of fiendishwickedness was gradually brought to light by the Juged'Instruction, and there was little doubt that, had Danevitchnot succeeded in unravelling the plot, the unfortunate Count, whowas becoming an expensive burden, and a menace to the safety ofthe plotters, would have been placed in a sack with a quantity ofscrap iron, and deposited at the bottom of the foul and stagnantwater opposite Pierre's hovel. Peon showed considerablereluctance to resort to this extreme measure, but Madame Charcot,who was less sentimental and more callous, had no scruples. Shesaw clearly enough that as long as the poor Count remained alivethere was an ever-present danger, for if Pierre should get intotrouble or die a revelation was certain. She influenced herhusband to take her view of the case, and had Danevitch notstepped in when he did, murder would have been added to the otherinfamy. As it was, the careers of the wretches were brought to aclose, and exemplary punishment was meted out to all of them. Theextradition of both Charcot and his wife was demanded by theRussian Government, to answer in Russia for the affair of theforged bill—the man for having presented it and drawn themoney, the woman for aiding and abetting him. But, of course,this demand was not complied with, as they had first of all tosuffer punishment in France for their deeds there. After thatthey would be handed to the tender mercies of the RussianGovernment, and were destined to end their days in exile inSiberia.

For a long time Count Dashkoff remained in a pitiable state,but under tender care and treatment his health was graduallyrestored, though his mind was shattered beyond repair. Of course,he could not be altogether exonerated from blame for the part hehad played with regard to his unhappy wife. But if he had sinned,he had also suffered, and everyone must admit that it was aterrible ending to a brilliant and what seemed a most promisingcareer. Unhappily, neither his position, his wealth, nor hisassociations could save him from yielding to the fatalfascinations of vulgar beauty; and the disastrous results thatfollowed doomed him to social extinction and a living death.

IV. — THE FATE OF VASILIY[*] IVANOFF

[* Note: The book has "Vassilo," which is not aRussian name.]

POSSIBLY very few readers of these chroniclesknow anything of the peculiarity—I had almost saidiniquity—of the Russian law. The freeborn Briton, who inhis own country may spout and write treason as long as it pleaseshim, and do anything that is not regarded as a legally punishableoffence—and the law is very tolerant in thisrespect—is apt to open his eves in astonishment when hegoes on the Continent and finds himself haled to a prison-housesimply because he has been jotting down some memoranda in a note-book, or mayhap has taken a snapshot with a Kodak at apicturesque fortification which he thinks will look well in hisalbum when he gets home.

This arbitrary and high-handed proceeding is common to allparts of Europe outside of Great Britain. But though the libertyof the subject and of the foreigner is ever menaced on theContinent, and a simple indiscreet act may serve to bring themight of the law down on the luckless offender, this state ofthings is nothing as compared with that which prevails in Russia.It is a plain statement of fact to say that, of all the countrieswhich boast of their civilization, Russia is the least civilized.The Russians themselves are a most hospitable people, they areclever, they make good friends and good neighbours; but theirlaws are antiquated, the method of government is barbarous, whilethe system of espionage which is in force all over the countrywould irritate a Briton into madness. And there is another aspectof the law, which, though it has been denied, still obtains inRussia, and that is the power of the law to keep an untried manwhose guilt is not proved in prison indefinitely, and to subjecthim to such mental or physical torture that, to escape from it,the victim either confesses to a crime of which he is innocent orgoes raving mad.

To understand this, one must bear in mind that, while in ourcountry a man is considered innocent until he is proved guilty,in Russia, as soon as ever he falls under suspicion, he isregarded as a criminal. He can then be thrown into a dungeon andkept there. If he persists in asserting his innocence, the law,if it can procure no proof one way or the other, will persist inregarding him as guilty, and will exhaust every means to overcomehim, and if compelled to let him go will do so with the greatestreluctance.

This is really no exaggerated statement. A thousand and oneproofs can be furnished in support of it. Danevitch, who wasRussian to the backbone, was nevertheless sufficiently broad-minded to frankly admit that the laws of his native country leftmuch to be desired. The case dealt with in this story willillustrate very forcibly what I have stated in the foregoinglines.

Vasiliy Ivanoff was by profession an architect, with, as wassupposed, a large and profitable connection. He was also anartist of some repute, and two or three of his pictures had founda place on the walls of the St. Petersburg Salon. His friendssometimes rated him for devoting too much time to paintingpictures that did not pay, and too little to his profession,which did pay. Ivanoff, however, was young, ardent, enthusiastic;a dreamer somewhat. He believed in himself, in his future. Theworld was beautiful, life was good, all men were brothers. Suchin effect were his principles; but he forgot the maxim ofscience, which insists that theory and practice should gotogether. Ivanoff was a theorist, but he found it difficult to bepractical. He had long been engaged to Maria Alekseyeva[*], who hadthe reputation of being one of the most beautiful young women inSt. Petersburg. She was a member of an exceedingly good family,who, though poor, boasted of their noble descent.

[* Note. The book has "Alexeyevina," which is not a Russian surname.]

The marriage of the young couple had been delayed from time totime on the grounds that, until his financial position improved,he could not afford to keep a wife. It was a great disappointmentto him, but he set to work with a will, and so far increased hisbusiness that he felt justified at last in appealing to Maria andher relatives that the marriage should be no longer delayed.

Among Ivanoff's most intimate friends was one Riskoff by name,who was said to be wealthy, and also exceedingly practical. Heand Ivanoff had been to school together, and had studied atcollege together; but Riskoff, being considerably older than hisfriend, completed his studies some years before the other.

Ivanoff was in the habit of consulting Riskoff about manythings, and he took him into his confidence with regard to themarriage; but Riskoff, knowing that Ivan was improvident, as wellas impractical, strongly counselled him to delay the marriage.Ivanoff, however, was headstrong. Riskoff was persistent, withthe result that the lifelong friends virtually quarrelled, and inthe circle which they frequented it was a matter of comment thatthese two men, who had been like brothers, now passed each otheras if they were strangers.

Unable at last to control his feelings, Ivanoff pleaded sopathetically to Maria to consent to the marriage that sheyielded, and they became man and wife. The marriage ceremony wasone of those semi-grand affairs peculiar to the middle classes inRussia, and the festivities that followed were conspicuous ivtheir magnificence and the lavish expenditure incurred. It wasnoted with much surprise at the time that Riskoff was not presentat the wedding or the feast. It was known that there had beenstrained relations between the two men; nevertheless, everyoneexpected that Riskoff would have been invited. But, in spite ofhis friend's absence, Ivanoff was supremely happy; the beautifulwoman for whom he would have laid down his life willingly, hadshe desired it, was his at last.

What more could mortal man wish for? Life henceforth wouldknow no pang. The doting couple would exist on each other's love,and not the tiniest of clouds should ever obscure the matrimonialsky. It was all very pretty. Others had thought the same thingover and over again, only to find, when the first transports ofjoy were past, that the married state is not quite the Elysiumthey believed it to be when they hastened to exchange singleblessedness for wedded bliss. The blessedness is at least a knownquantity, but the bliss is as often as not found to be littlebetter than a delusive mirage. Ivanoff, however, did not concernhimself about the future. With him, sufficient for the day wasthe evil thereof. Why think of the morrow when the to-day was sofull of joy? That was his theory, and he lived up to it.

The first year of his married life, so far as was known, was avery happy one; the young couple revelled in each other'ssociety. Their social functions were attended by people from farand near, for Maria's beauty was the talk of the town, and herhusband was very happy and very proud. He believed that no suchwoman as his wife had ever walked the fair earth before. Romance,however, cannot last for ever, and joy must ever be evanescent inthis wicked world. Vasiliy Ivanoff was soon to prove the truth ofthis. Necessity compelled him at last to look into his affairs,and he found to his horror that he was on the verge ofbankruptcy. Bills were pouring in upon him, but there was nothingin the exchequer to meet them with.

It was a terrible state of matters, and to a sensitive manwith a poetical temperament little short of maddening. From hisideal world he had suddenly to descend to the vulgar commonplaceone, where the butcher, the baker, and candlestick-maker clamourfor their little accounts; where summonses and writs run; andwhere brokers' men and sheriffs' officers have no bowels ofcompunction. It was a revelation, and a very terrible one, toVasiliy, and he had to face the fact that he was heavily in debt,with no means to meet his engagements. He could not apply to hiswife's relations for assistance, for they were poor and proud,and, while unable to help him, they would not have hesitated torate him for the disgrace he would bring upon them if his affairsshould be made public, and there was every probability that suchwould be the case.

It was subsequently brought to light that in his distress heapplied to various friends for temporary assistance; but, becausethey either could not or would not render it, his appeals metwith no response. There is no doubt that his affairs at thisstage of his career were in a very complicated state, and herealized for the first time that he was practically ruined; andto such an extent did it affect him, that one night he was seenat one of the fashionable and best-known cafés in a state ofintoxication. Probably a good deal was due to his mentalexcitement rather than to the amount of stimulant he had imbibed,for he was a most temperate man, and rarely went to excess. Someacquaintances tried to persuade him to go home, but hisexcitement only increased, and he was heard to exclaim; 'It's aburning shame that I should be poor when there are thousands lessworthy than I am rolling in wealth. I feel as if I could domurder on those who hoard their gold when so many are sufferingfor the want of common necessaries.'!

This little outburst of passion and ill-will was no doubt dueentirely to his condition; but it was a dangerous sentiment togive expression to in a Russian café, though, but for subsequentevents, no importance would have been attached to it.

With some difficulty the unfortunate man was taken to hishome, and it would appear that on the following day, when nodoubt he, figuratively speaking, sat on the stool of repentance,he resolved, in his extremity, to appeal to his whilom friendRiskoff. With that intention he went to Riskoff house, but foundthat he was out; and, a> it was uncertain when he would return,Vasiliy asked for pen and paper, and wrote a letter, in which heconfessed that he had been living in a fools' paradise. But hehad come to his senses, and intended to be more businesslike infuture. He wound up with begging Riskoff to lend him two thousandroubles, promising faithfully to repay the loan in six months'time. The following day he received this reply:

Dear Ivanoff,

I confess to feeling some surprise, after thecoolness there has been between us of late, that you should applyto me in your monetary difficulties for assistance. It is true Ihave the reputation of being a rich man, and it is highlyprobable that under different circ*mstances I would haveaccommodated you with this loan. But I flatly refuse to do sonow. I do not consider you have treated me well. I was your warmfriend at one time, and would have done anything for you; but youthought proper to trifle with that friendship, so there's an endof it. As you have made your bed, so you must lie upon it. Idon't know that I am an unkindly man—indeed, I am sure I amnot; but I feel angry now, and my heart hardens against you. I amtruly sorry for your beautiful wife, and consider that you havedone her a gross wrong in bringing her to this state of poverty.It is no use your writing to me or calling here again, as to-morrow morning I set off on my journey to visit my estates, andshall not be back for a month. I hope in the meantime you willpull through your difficulties, and that the lesson which povertyteaches will not be lost upon you.

Riskoff.

It is easy to understand the effect a letter of this kindwould have upon a sensitive and proud man. The refusal of hisfriend to help him must have been a stinging and bitter blow toIvanoff. It appeared that for a long time he sat in moody andgloomy silence. Then he showed the letter to his wife, and it wasa shock to her. Up to that moment she had not quite realized thatthings were as bad as they were. Allowing her feelings to get thebetter of her, she reproached her husband, and he made an angryretort, with the inevitable result that other harsh things weresaid on both sides, until the young wife, in a fit of petulanceand wounded pride, hastily put on her cloak and bonnet and wentoff to her parents. Soon afterwards the unhappy husband also wentout, and was absent for some hours.

In the evening his wife returned, accompanied by her brother.She had repented her hastiness, and her people had told her thather place was at her husband's side. In the meantime he also hadcome back. He seemed in a much happier frame of mind, and Maria'sbrother witnessed a very pleasant reunion. He spent the eveningwith her. They had supper, and were happy. Before retiring,Vasiliy told his wife that he was in funds again, and all wouldbe well. He said the little cloud that had overshadowed them hadpassed, and that henceforth they would live in clover. She askedhim how he had managed to so suddenly bring about the change, buthe laughingly replied that he couldn't explain just then, butwould do so later on.

The next day Ivanoff rose betimes. He attended to somebusiness matters, paid several of the most pressing claimsagainst him, and at mid-day he and his wife lunched at a café,and in the evening they dined at their own house in company withsome friends who had been invited. In the midst of the dinner thecompany were suddenly startled by the violent ringing of thelarge bell which hung at the gate. It was by no means an ordinaryringing, but suggestive of impatience and anger. The servantwhose duty it was to attend to the door had not time to get downbefore the bell was rung a second time still more violently. Theservant hurried to the door, and, flinging it open, wasconfronted by an important-looking official known as a Judge ofInstruction, accompanied by his two legal satellites and twoarmed policemen.

'Is your master in?' demanded the Judge angrily.

'Do you mean Mr. Vasiliy Ivanoff?'

'Of course I do. Why have you kept me so long at thedoor?'

'I came immediately, sir,' answered the frightenedservant.

'Very well. Now, is your master in?'

'Yes.'

'Take me to him, then.'

'He is dining with some friends.'

'Blazes and thunder!' roared the official; 'what do I carewhether he is dining with friends or whether he isn't? Conduct meto him. Men, follow me.'

The now speechless servant led the way to the dining-room, andclose at her heels were the Judge and his men. As the intrudersthus unceremoniously entered, Vasiliy jumped to his feet, and hiswife uttered a little cry of alarm, while the visitors lookedaghast, for the presence of the Judge and the police with drawnswords was ominous.

'Sorry to disturb you,' growled the Judge gruffly.

'What do you want here?' asked Ivanoff sharply.

'I've come on business.'

'What business?'

'Very unpleasant business. I am empowered to search yourhouse. Here is my authority.' He displayed a blue documentbearing the Government seal.

Vasiliy's wife had recovered her presence of mind by thistime, and, going to her husband's side, she remarked:

'Oh, I suppose this is some absurd denunciation on the part ofan enemy, for I am afraid that even I and my husband haveenemies. But, happily for us, we never interfere in politics; weare content to lead peaceful lives.'

'It is not a question of politics,' answered the Judge, hisgruff manner somewhat softening as he gazed upon the beautifulyoung wife and felt sympathy for her.

'Not politics!' she exclaimed, in new alarm, as she glanced ather husband's face, which had become very pale.

'No; my visit has nothing to do with politics.'

'Why are you here, then?' demanded Mrs. Ivanoff anxiously.

'I am here on very serious business indeed. Your husband isaccused of—well, that is, he is suspected of murder.'

'Murder!' broke like an echo from the wife's lips, and allpresent started to their feet in deadly alarm, as if a bombshellhad been exploded in the room.

'I am accused of murder?' gasped Ivanoff, looking dazed, as ifhe had received a blow on the head that had half stunned him.

'Yes, murder,' answered the Judge solemnly.

'The murder of whom?' asked the wife, a half-incredulous smileon her face.

'Mr. Riskoff.'

'Riskoff!' echoed the poor lady, as the smile gave place to alook of terror, and she fixed her eyes on her husband as if everyhope she had on earth hung on the words he would next utter.

'Is he dead?' Ivanoff gasped, the dazed expressionstrengthening.

'Yes,' said the Judge, 'and you are charged with havingmurdered him.'

Ivanoff broke into a strange laugh as he exclaimed:

'This is positively absurd. Why, I was with himyesterday.'

'Yes, that fact is well known. You went to his house to seehim?'

'I did.'

'No one was with him after you left him?'

'That I have no knowledge of,' moaned Ivanoff, as he passedhis hand distressfully over his head from his foreheadbackward.

'Soon after you had taken your departure from his house he wasfound dead in his library.'

Poor Mrs. Ivanoff was now almost in a state of collapse, andwould have fallen had not one of the ladies present caught andsupported her.

The Judge had become stern and hard again. His assistants hadout their note-books, and while one wrote the questions andreplies in shorthand, the other took them down in longhand.

'You possessed a revolver?' asked the Judge.

'I did,' muttered Ivanoff.

'Where is it?'

'I—I lent it to—to my friend Riskoff.'

'You lent it to him!' exclaimed the Judge ironically.

'Yes.'

'Why did you lend it to him?'

'Because he asked for it.'

'Ah! very likely,' remarked the Judge, still more ironically.'Why did he ask you for it?'

'He told me he was starting at once to visit his estates, andas he was without a revolver mine would he useful to him.'

'Why did you take your revolver to his house?'

The Judge glanced at his assistants as he asked this question,then fixed a searching glance on the suspected man's ghastlywhite face. Mrs. Ivanoff also gazed at her husband with staringeyes, and waited breathlessly for his answer. She had been led toa chair, and her friends were crowding round her; but withoutstretched arms she kept them back, so that they might notobstruct her view of her husband, who stood motionless as astatue, save for the rapid rising and falling of his chest; andhe was white as a statue, while his hands were clenched firmlytogether.

'Give me an answer, sir,' exclaimed the Judge angrily, as thesuspected man remained dumb. 'Why did you take your revolver withyou to your friend's house?'

Ivanoff was still silent. The assistants were busy writing.The Judge became more peremptory.

'Again I ask you: Why did you take your revolver to Riskoff'shouse?'

Ivanoff glanced nervously round the room now, and his eyesfell upon his wife. The pitiable sight she presented broke himdown, and, covering his face with his hands, he burst into tears,and stammered forth, in a broken, emotional voice, the followingreply:

'I went to my friend to ask him to lend me some money. I tookthe revolver with me, determining to shoot myself if herefused.'

'Or shoot him,' said the Judge, with a sneer.

'No, no—on my soul and before my God, no!' criedIvanoff, raising his hands to heaven.

'Well, your friend was killed with a bullet fired from thisrevolver.' He produced a revolver as he spoke. 'Do you recogniseit?'

'Yes.'

'Your name is engraved upon it. It was picked up on the floorof his room. Riskoff had been shot in the back of the head. Themurderer, therefore, was behind him.'

A shudder ran through all present as this announcement wasmade. There was an exception, however. It was Mrs. Ivanoff; shesat motionless, as if she had been petrified. Her eyes were stillfixed on her husband.

'Have you any money?' asked the Judge.

'Yes,' answered the wretched man.

'In notes?'

'Yes.'

'Let me see them.'

Ivanoff put his hands into his pocket, and produced a well-filled pocket-book. The Judge took it, opened it, and disclosed apacket of new notes. He examined them carefully, and consultedcertain memoranda he had made in his notebook.

'Ah, this is very damning evidence,' he said at last. Riskoffdrew from his bankers yesterday a large sum of money in notes.These notes are part of those he drew from the bank.'

Mrs. Ivanoff started to her feet now, and uttered a low moanof agony. Somebody wanted to support her, but she pushed themback, and, steadying herself with a tremendous effort, shesaid:

'Vasiliy, what does this mean?'

'Some hideous mistake,' he murmured.

'I hope so. God grant it is so,' sobbed the unhappy lady. 'ButI remember Riskoff's answer to your application for a loan. Andnow Riskoff is dead, your revolver is found in his house, and youare in possession of notes which he drew from his bank. Oh, myGod, it's awful! It's too, too horrible! I am going mad!'

She uttered a suppressed scream, pressed her hands to herhead, reeled and staggered, and fell fainting into the arms ofsome of her friends.

Apparently unmoved by this sad and pathetic scene, the Judgepreserved his sternness and stolidity.

'So Riskoff wrote to you?' he asked.

'Yes,' answered Ivanoff in a mechanical way.

'Where is the letter?

'I will give it to you. Come with me.'

The Judge motioned to the armed men, and they placedthemselves one on either side of the suspect, while the Judgehimself brought up the rear. In this order they proceeded toIvanoff's studio, where, opening a bureau with a key he took fromhis pocket, he produced the letter he had received from Riskoff,wherein he point-blank refused to lend the money, and handed itto the Judge, who, having perused it, remarked:

'This is a fatal piece of evidence against you. You had bettermake a clean breast of the whole affair.'

By this time Ivanoff had somewhat recovered himself, and saidfirmly:

'I have nothing to confess. I am innocent before God.'

'Most criminals declare themselves innocent at first,'answered the Judge coldly. 'However, I have no doubt you willtell another tale before we have done with you. I charge you nowwith being the murderer of Mr. Riskoff, and make you my prisoner.Secure him and bring him along.'

The policemen seized the wretched man, and fastened his wriststogether with a pair of handcuffs. He begged to be allowed towrite two or three letters, but this request was refused, and hewas taken from the house, still protesting his innocence, andwithout being able to take a final leave of his wife, whor*mained unconscious.

In accordance with the mode of procedure peculiar to Russia,the suspected man was conducted to the office of the criminalprison, where he was subjected to another cross-examination, andthe Judge of Instruction handed in his procès-verbal, asthe French call it. The Judge, having finished his part of theaffair so far, received an official receipt for his prisoner'sbody and left, while the prisoner himself, having been strippedof his clothing, and a prison suit allotted to him, was consignedto a secret cell, which meant that he would be kept isolated fromeveryone until the police had worked up sufficient evidence tosecure his conviction. But in the event of their failing to dothat, the prisoner himself would in all probability ultimatelyconfess in order to be relieved from the awful horror of solitaryconfinement in a secret dungeon.

The case against Ivanoff seemed perfectly clear. The publiccondemned him from the first, for the evidence was so strong.There was the letter which Riskoff had written declining to lendthe money Ivanoff had applied to him for. Yet within thirty-sixhours of that letter being received, Riskoff was discovered deadin his own house. He had that very morning drawn from his bank alarge sum of money. A portion of the money was found in Ivanoff'spossession. Riskoff had been shot from behind. A bullet hadentered the back part of the head, traversing the brain andproducing instant death. The deed was done with a revolver, whichwas left in the room, no doubt by an oversight on the part of theslaver. The revolver was the property of Ivanoff, as proved by alittle silver plate let into the butt, on which his name wasengraved. On his own confession, Ivanoff had visited Riskoff. Heknew that he was about to set out on a journey. He knew also thathe would draw money from the bank for the purposes of hisjourney. Therefore, having been refused the loan he had askedfor, he went to the house with the deliberate intention ofkilling his erstwhile friend and robbing him of his money.

Such was the construction put upon the case, and it seemed asif no one but an idiot could doubt for a moment that Ivanoff hadcommitted the crime. And as a piece of strengthening evidence thewords he had uttered in the café were raked up against him. 'It'sa burning shame,' he had said, 'that I should be poor when thereare thousands less worthy than I am rolling in wealth. I feel asif I could do murder on those who hoard their gold when so manyare suffering for the want of common necessaries.'

All these things taken into consideration left no room todoubt that Ivanoff was a murderer. He had committed a clumsycrime, and left such tracks behind him that in a very short timethe outraged law had him in its grip.

The tragedy aroused more than the usual amount of interest, asboth I van off and Riskoff were well known, while the prisoner'sstory was not without a certain romance which added to theinterest. His poetical tendencies; his essays in art; hisstruggles; his wooing of the beautiful Maria in opposition to thesage counsels and earnest advice of his school-fellow and friend,Riskoff; his marriage; his monetary difficulties; his appeal forhelp to the man whose advice he had scouted—all thesethings afforded the general public subject-matter for discussion;they were so many chapters in an exciting tale, the end of whichwas murder.

As may be imagined, Mrs. Ivanoff's friends were furious, for,though poor, they were as proud as Lucifer, and felt stronglyembittered against the man who had brought such disgrace into thefamily. Poor Maria came in for a fair amount of blame. She wastold very bluntly that she had no business ever to have marriedsuch a man. These reproaches made her dreadful position stillharder to bear; but when the first shock of the disclosure andthe arrest had passed, she rose equal to the occasion, andstartled everyone she knew iv declaring her unalterable belief inher husband's innocence. This seemed to most people like flyingin the very face of Providence. The accused man's guilt was soobvious that it was an outrage on intelligence to argueotherwise.

But Maria Ivanoff was a young and newly-married woman. She hadmarried for love. Her husband had always treated her with thegreatest tenderness and consideration. Over and over again he hadtold her he worshipped the very ground she walked upon, and haddone everything in his power to prove that he did not speak merewords. She believed in him; she believed in his assertion that hewas innocent; and though all the world condemned him she wouldnot. She was his wife, his loving wife, and she would try to savehim. The poor woman saw clearly enough that she stood alone, andthat she could expect neither sympathy nor help from anyone.Nevertheless, she was not daunted, nor was she deterred, and herfirst step was to seek an interview with the Minister of theInterior, or, as we should call him, the Home Secretary.

It was not easy to obtain this interview, but thanks to theinfluence of a gentleman holding a high official position, withwhom she was acquainted, she succeeded at last, and found herselfface to face with the proud and pompous personage who wasinvested with such Tremendous power that he could snatch a personfrom his doom even at the eleventh hour. To the Minister shepleaded, literally on her knees, for an order to visit herhusband. At first the official was obdurate: but her tears, hereloquence, her distress, and perhaps, more than all, her beauty,softened him; and she left his bureau with a Government orderwhich granted her a twenty minutes' interview with the prisoner.She flew to the gloomy prison, presented the order, and in alittle while, in the presence of numerous officials, husband andwife met again; but it was in a dismal corridor, and they wereseparated from each other by an iron grill.

Although only little more than a week had elapsed since thatcruel night when he was torn from her side, a wonderful changehad taken place in him. He looked ten years older. He was haggardand ghastly, and no wonder, for he had suddenly changed thesunshine and brightness of the world for a pestiferous dungeon,far below the ground, where every movement of the prisoner waswatched, where the walls were lined with felt to deaden allsound; where miasma rose up from the ground, and ooze and slimedropped from the roof; where no human voice was heard, for thestern warders were prohibited from opening their lips to aprisoner; where the food was horrible, and even the commondecencies of life were not observed. No wonder that in such aplace men went mad; no wonder that even in a few weeks youth andvigour were changed to tottering age.

Maria was startled and horrified. She would have thrown herarms about her wretched husband's neck, but cruel bars kept themasunder. Ivanoff iterated and reiterated again and again that hewas innocent. He swore it by all that a Russian holds mostsacred, and he begged with streaming eyes that his wife would useevery means possible to prove his innocence and secure hisrelease, otherwise he would in a very short time be ravingmad.

When Maria Ivanoff left that awful place and got into thelight again, she felt like one who had come up out of a tomb,where she had looked upon death. She knew that there was butlittle hope for her husband unless his innocence was made clearas day. She thoroughly believed his assertions; and she made amental resolve that she would rest neither night nor day untilshe had exhausted every possible means to release him. Herfriends were angry with her; everybody said it was an impossibletask to prove a guilty man innocent. Her distress of mind may beimagined, not described; she told her friends she herself wouldgo mad if somebody did not come to her assistance. Then it wasthat her brother, with what he intended to be the most pointedirony, said:

'You are seeking to do that which is impossible. Now, if thereis a man in all Russia who can perform seemingly impossibledeeds, that man is Michael Danevitch, the Government detective.Why don't you go to him? He might perform a miracle, whoknows?'

Maria Ivanoff jumped at the suggestion, though it was neverintended she should take it seriously. But she sought outDanevitch. She laid all the facts of the case before him. It wasthe first he had heard of the matter. It was the first time hehad ever set his eyes on Maria. But her moving tale stirred him;her beauty won him; her tears found their way to his heart. Heconsoled her in a measure by a pledge that he would examine thecase from every possible point of view, and communicate with herlater on. Nearly a fortnight passed before she saw him again.

'There is one point, and a very curious point it is,' he said,'that makes the evidence against the accused weak, and yet nobodyseems to have noticed it.'

'What is it?' cried Maria, breathless with new hope.

'On the day that Riskoff was murdered, he drew from the bankthree thousand roubles. Your husband had one thousand of thissum, according to his own statement, and the most criticalinvestigation has failed to prove this statement false; not arouble over and above the one thousand has been traced to hispossession.'

'Yes, yes; go on,' moaned Maria, as she clasped her handstogether with the emotion the detective's words begot. 'What hasbecome of the other two thousand?'

'Ah, that is what I want to know. If your husband murderedRiskoff for the sake of the money, why did he only take onethousand roubles and leave two thousand? And if he left twothousand behind, what has become of them?

Maria was holding her breath with that intensity of nervousemotion which one experiences when it seems as if some revelationis about to be made which means life or death to the listener.Danevitch remained thoughtful and silent. His eyes were fixed onvacancy; his lips were closely compressed; he looked absorbed anddreamy, as was his wont when he was unusually thoughtful. At lastMaria could endure her pent-up feelings no longer, and in a huskyvoice she asked:

'What inference do you draw?'

'An inference which on the face of it seems to corroborateyour husband's assertion of his innocence. Mark you. I only sayit seems to do so. I do not say it does.'

Maria covered her face with her hands and wept passionately,but her tears were rather the result of hope than of despair. Herover-strained nerves were in that state when they were as liableto give way under the effects of joy as they were under theeffects of sorrow. She fell on her knees at Danevitch's feet,and, clasping her hands in passionate appeal, implored him tosave her husband. He raised her up, and said softly:

'I will do what I can.'

It was really remarkable that it should have been left forDanevitch to bring out that curious point about the money. Allthe police officials had overlooked it. They were co*ck-sure, forthey believed that the case was so clear against the prisonerthat it would not admit of a doubt.

For some days after the interview with Maria, Danevitchconcerned himself with endeavouring to prove if Ivanoff had hadmore than the one thousand roubles, but the most exhaustiveinquiries, and the most rigorous search of his house, failed toget a trace of a single rouble beyond the one thousand which hehad declared Riskoff had lent him, a portion of which he had paidaway to his creditors. When it became known that Danevitch wasengaged on the case, and that he was trying to find out what hadbecome of the two thousand roubles out of the three thousanddrawn from the bank, not only was public curiosity aroused, butto some extent opinion swung round, and sympathy was expressedfor the prisoner. The police, however, were not moved, unless itwas to become still more prejudiced against Ivanoff. They knewthe power of Danevitch, and the influence he had in highquarters, and they were determined not to lose their prey. Theytherefore resorted to all the forms and pressure allowed by theRussian law to exact from the unhappy man a confession of hisguilt. Beyond the facts they had already got together, they couldobtain no other evidence. They knew that it was just possiblethose facts might fail to secure a conviction, whereas aconfession wrung from the suspected man, no matter under whattorture it was obtained, would be accepted without question. Suchwas the law in Russia.

Weeks passed, and it leaked out that the prisoners obstinacyhad at last been overcome. All that remained, therefore, to bedone was to bring him up for trial, which would be a mereperfunctory business, and fix the date for his transportation. Atlast he appeared before the judges. The interest the case hadaroused caused the court to be crowded to suffocation. When theprisoner appeared at the bar, those who had known Ivanoffprevious to his arrest were shocked. They saw now an old white-haired man, with a haggard, hunted expression of face, and a wildstare in the restless eyes, as if he had suffered some tremendousmental shock. He seemed stunned, and as if he did not recogniseanyone, and could not realize his position. Truly it is said ofhim who is sent to a Russian dungeon: 'He shall return no more tohis house, neither shall his place know him any more.'

The prisoner had been chained, tortured, and punished until hehad become imbecile. But what of that? Was he not the slayer of afellow-man—a scarlet-handed murderer who for the sake of acomparatively small sum of money had ruthlessly taken the life ofhis best friend? He himself had confessed to it, so that no onecould raise up a doubt. The counsel for the prosecution seemed tohave an easy task of it. He went over all the evidence that wasknown. Ivanoff had applied to his friend for a loan; the loan wasrefused, and the letter of refusal was read in court with a greatflourish. Nevertheless, the prisoner went to his friend's house,taking a revolver engraved with his own name with him. Whatpassed between them would never be known until the secrets of allhearts were revealed; but a little later Riskoff was found dead.Some distance from him was Ivanoff's revolver. The dead man hadbeen shot with a bullet front that revolver. The bullet had gonethrough his brain. By an inconceivable act of folly, the prisonerleft his revolver behind. It must have fallen from his hand whenhe was rifling the victim's pockets for the money, and he hadforgotten to pick it up. Subsequently the money was found in hispossession. Was ever there clearer circ*mstantial evidence in theworld? But to make assurance doubly sure, there was theprisoner's confession, taken down from his own lips in his cell,by the Judge of Instruction; there it was for the jury toinspect, duly witnessed and attested and legalized by the greatseal of the Minister of the Interior.

The prosecuting counsel sat down with the air of one who hadperformed a noble deed and scored a great triumph. The prisonerwas silent, motionless, his eyes staring blankly into space, andhis white face without any expression. Amidst a hush that waspainful, the counsel for the defence—one of the ablest menin Russia—rose to his feet, and, adjusting his gown withprofessional gravity, said: 'I claim one of two things: either animmediate acquittal of the prisoner on the grounds of lack ofcondemnatory evidence, or an adjournment of the trial for a fewdays, when I shall be able to prove his innocence. As everyoneknows, Riskoff, the murdered man, drew three thousand roublesfrom his bankers on the morning of his death. One thousandroubles only was traced to the prisoner. All the money was insmall notes. I have here one thousand five hundred of the missingtwo thousand. There are witnesses present from the bank who willidentify every note. We hope to regain the other five hundredshortly. These notes were not in possession of the prisoner, butof another man, the man who committed the murder, and who willyet be brought to justice. The prisoner at the bar isinnocent.'

The effect of this announcement was startling and dramatic inthe highest degree. Everybody seemed affected except theprisoner—he was unmoved; he continued to stare into space.There was a hasty consultation among the jury, and a hurriedwhispering with the Judge, who asked if it was true that MichaelDanevitch had the case in hand. He was answered in theaffirmative, and in the end he announced that no verdict would begiven that day, but the prisoner would be put back for afortnight.

Mrs. Ivanoff had not been present at her husband's trial. Shewas prostrated with illness, the result of long mental strain andintense anxiety; but a day or two before the case came onDanevitch called upon her and bade her be of good cheer, for herhusband was innocent. Although she knew that Danevitch was notlikely to make such a definite statement as that without warrant,she exclaimed:

'But it is rumoured that my husband has confessed thecrime.'

'I have heard the same rumour,' Danevitch answered; 'but aconfession that is wrung from a prisoner is not always reliable.But come, now, take heart. I told you, in the first instance,that I was much struck by the fact that only one thousand roublescould be traced to your husband. If he murdered his friend forhis money, why did he not take the lot? It seemed absurd that,having committed the crime, he contented himself with one-thirdonly of the amount he could have had. His story was that hevisited Riskoff, who repented of his hastiness, and said he hadwritten the letter of refusal when he was in a bad temper, andthat had your husband not called, he was going to write anapology to him and enclose him one thousand roubles. As it was,he handed him the money, for which your husband gave a receipt asan acknowledgment that he was indebted to Riskoff to the extentof a thousand roubles. Subsequently, on Riskoff saying he wasgoing to a gunsmith's to buy a gun and a revolver to take withhim on his journey, your husband pulled his own revolver out andoffered the loan of it to his friend. The offer was accepted, andsoon afterwards the two men parted. On the first blush this storyhad the appearance of being very far-fetched, and calculated totax one's credulity; but when I came to examine it in connectionwith all the circ*mstances, it presented itself to me as astatement of fact. Now I have no hesitation in saying that in themain, if not in actual detail, it is true.'

Mrs. Ivanoff heard this in silent thankfulness. She felt thather prayers had been heard, for night and day the poor woman hadprayed that her husband might be proved innocent. Like mostRussian women, she had an intense faith in the rites of herChurch and the efficacy of prayer. Needless to say that afterDanevitch's statement her faith was strengthened, for she knew hewas not the man to express such a pronounced opinion without hehad a very good foundation for it.

As he himself had said, when he came to look into the matterthe case presented itself to him in a very different aspect, andthe prisoner's story appeared probable. If that story was true,it necessarily followed that a third person must have been awareof the monetary transaction between the two men, and, takingadvantage of the circ*mstances, had himself committed the crimefor the sake of the two thousand roubles. It was upon that theorythat Danevitch set to work. Riskoff led a bachelor life. Hishousehold consisted of two female servants and a man-servant. Onthe morning of the crime the man had gone to the market. One ofthe females was an old woman who had been in the service of thefamily for upwards of fifty years, and had nursed Riskoff when hewas a baby: the other was a young girl of about eighteen. The oldwoman at the time was in bed suffering from an ulcerated foot,the result of a cut with a piece of glass on which she hadinadvertently stepped. Consequently the girl—Olga was hername—was in charge of the house. She admitted Ivanoff, andvery soon afterwards her master and the visitor went out, andwere absent nearly an hour. Her master told her that he was goingto the bank to draw some money for his journey on the morrow. Thetwo men returned together. In about half an hour afterwards sheopened the door for Ivanoff to depart. The murder was notdiscovered until the return of the man-servant. Then Olga went toher master's room to inquire whether he intended to dine alonethat evening or whether there would be guests. On opening thedoor, she was horrified to find her master lying dead on thefloor.

Such was Olga's story, and it seemed probable enough, butDanevitch was not satisfied. The missing two thousand roubles sethim pondering deeply, and he had a private interview with the oldhousekeeper, and questioned her about Olga.

'Was Olga a steady girl?'

'Yes.'

'Had she a lover?'

The old woman thought not; at any rate, no one who came to thehouse. But did nobody visit her? Well, yes, a brother had been tosee her the previous day. Her brother was called Andrey. He was asoldier stationed at Cronstadt, but was on furlough, and passedthrough St. Petersburg on his way to visit his parents, whor*sided at a place called Ladeinoe-Pole, a little village lyingto the north of St. Petersburg and the east of Lake Ladoga.

'Was the brother at the house on the day of the murder?'

The housekeeper did not know. She thought not. But, still, hemight have been without her knowing it.

Pursuing his inquiries, Danevitch found that tins soldierbrother had left St. Petersburg on the night of the murder forhis home. Danevitch followed him there, but found on his arrivalthat, his furlough being up, he had returned to Cronstadt. Theparents were peasants, and, like most Russian peasants, living amiserable sort of life; but Danevitch learnt this fact, thatquite recently they had been to a neighbouring market-town andpurchased a horse and two cows, which made the neighbours quiteenvious; and, of course, such an event in so small a village wasa nine days' wonder, and was much commented upon.

The soldier son, who was so good to his parents, had no doubtprovided them with the money. Danevitch, however, was well awarethat, however dutiful and affectionate the son was, he could notsave from his miserable pay a sum sufficiently large for thepurchase of two cows and a horse. The pay of the Russian privateis about one halfpenny a day. It is therefore impossible for himto save money. Having regard to these facts, the detective deemedsome explanation imperatively necessary. But before he took hisdeparture from the little village, it came to his knowledge thatAndreyevitch, the father of Andrey, the soldier, was carrying onnegotiations with a Jew—Weissmann by name—anationalized German, for the purchase of a little plot of land inthe village. Weissmann had had a mortgage on the land, hadforeclosed, and was anxious to sell. At last a bargain wasstruck, and Andreyevitch paid one hundred roubles as earnestmoney. The hundred roubles was paid in notes. They formed part ofthe amount Riskoff had drawn from the bank.

Thereupon Danevitch confronted old Andreyevitch with two armedofficers of the law, and demanded to know where he got thosenotes from. The simple and ignorant old peasant at once answeredthat he had received them from his son. 'Where did the son getthem from?' The father understood that his son had found a rollof notes, and though he ought to have delivered them at thebureau of police, his strong affection for his poor old parentsprompted him to commit a breach of the law by retaining the moneyand giving it to his father. 'Had the father any more notes?'

Yes, he had a roll of them. He produced them from a hole inthe thatch of his house. They were carefully wrapped up in apiece of sheepskin to keep them from the damp. There were notesto the value of one thousand five hundred roubles. The old peoplehad already spent about five hundred roubles in the purchase ofthe cows and the horse, and in clearing off certain debts. To theastonishment and terror of the old people, the notes wereretained, and steps were taken to recover those that had alreadybeen paid away.

With the money in his possession, Danevitch returned to St.Petersburg, and handed it over to the defending counsel in timefor him to make that dramatic coup in court. The next stepwas the arrest of Olga and Andrey. They were arrestedsimultaneously, though one was in St. Petersburg, the other inCronstadt. The woman was terrified at first, but when she wasconfronted with the Judge of Instruction, she became sullen, andrefused to answer any questions. Not so Andrey; he at onceconfessed that he had stolen the money, but vowed that he did notcommit the murder.

'Who did commit the murder, then?'

He believed that Ivanoff did. All that he knew about it waswhat his sweetheart had told him; she said she had found hermaster shot. He was lying on the floor with a bid let-wound inthe head, and on the table was a pile of bank-notes. She askedhim to go to the room and take the notes, which he did.

Danevitch saw at once the discrepancies in this story. It wasnot at all likely that Ivanoff would have gone off leaving alarge number of bank-notes on the table. So Olga and Andrey 'wereeach consigned to a secret dungeon. In the course of a week thediscipline of the dungeon life had worked its effects on Olga,and with blanched lips she related the following story to theJudge of Instruction.

Her soldier lover had come to see her two days before thecrime, and, unknown to her master, she had kept him in the houseduring those two days. On the morning of the crime, when hermaster and Ivanoff returned from the bank, she had to go into theroom to take in some refreshments. She saw a great heap of noteson the table; she heard the conversation about the revolver, andsaw Ivanoff hand his to her master. When the visitor had departedand she had closed the door upon him, she thought how easy itwould be to murder the master, take his money, and let it seem asif Ivanoff had done it. Her fellow-servant was ill in bed; theman-servant was out. Her lover was at hand, and nobody knew thathe was there. She hurried to him. She told him all. He wasentirely under her influence. She went to her master's roomagain. The notes were still on the table, so was the revolver. Hewas busy making up his books, and did not seem to notice her. Asshe removed a tray containing glasses and biscuits, she secretlytook away the revolver also. Then she Mew to Andrey, gave him theweapon, and they returned to the room. She opened the doorgently; Riskoff was sitting at the table, still writing. Andreycrept in on his hands and knees and shot him. He took the notesand the receipt given by Ivanoff to his friend for the thousandroubles, and immediately left the house. In six months' time hewould be drafted into the reserve; then he and Olga would bemarried, and go to live with his people. Nobody would suspectthem of the crime. The case was clear against Ivanoff; he wouldprobably die, and there would be an end of it, for dead men tellno tales.

All would no doubt have turned out just as the wretch desired,had Danevitch not been brought upon the scene. The horrible storyas told by Olga was corroborated in every detail, and the receiptgiven to Riskoff by Ivanoff was recovered. Andrey expiated hiscrime in the mines. Olga was sent to Northern Siberia for life.Ivanoff was released, but he was a mental wreck, and his lovingand devoted wife had to place him in a lunatic asylum. Danevitchhad saved him from Siberia, but could not save him from theliving death to which a cruel fate had doomed him.

V. — THE MERCHANT OF RIGA

FERGUSON, TAUCHNITZ AND CO. were the largestfirm of exporters in Riga. Their trade consisted of tallow,timber, corn, flax, hemp, flax-seed, quills, furs, etc. They hadagents all over the great Russian Empire, including the fareastern and far northern parts of Siberia. The trade wasprincipally with Great Britain, and it was said the firm employeda fleet of upwards of a hundred steam and sailing vessels,besides numerous small craft for the navigation of the Russianrivers.

Donald Ferguson, the head of the firm, was a Scotchman,naturalized in Russia, where he had lived for nearly forty years.He had married a Russian lady, by whom he had severalchildren.

Ferguson enjoyed the distinction of being reputed one of thewealthiest merchants in Russia, and he was no less conspicuous asa prominent citizen, who had done an immense deal for his adoptedcountry. For many years he had taken a very active part in allphilanthropic movements. He had spent large sums of money in theimprovement of Riga and its harbour; he had built and endowed anational hospital; had founded schools, and done much for theimprovement of the lower classes, whose cause he espoused withgreat warmth and enthusiasm. He had earned for himself, from oneend of Russia to the other, a name for fair dealing, probity, andhonourable conduct. In the mercantile world he and his firm wereheld in the highest repute.

One night at the beginning of spring he was found lying deadin his private office at his warehouse on the quay at Riga. Itwas thought at first that he had died a natural death, that hehad had an apoplectic seizure; but when the body came to beexamined, there was conclusive evidence of his having beenstrangled. On each side of the throat were unmistakable signs ofthumb pressure, and a post-mortem examination made it clear thatstrangulation had caused death. Such a prominent and well-knownman could not have died in an ordinary way without his fellow -citizens experiencing a shock and being deeply affected, but whenthe news spread that he had been murdered it caused a profoundsensation. Then there was a universal expression of regret,followed by a cry of indignation and horror, and a demand forvengeance, swift and pitiless, on the slaver of this good man.Naturally enough, the first thought was that he had been killedin order that some of his property might be carried off, but alittle investigation soon put a very different complexion on theaffair, and proved that the crime was mysterious, inexplicable,and remarkable. When many hours had passed, and no trace of themurderer could be got, Michael Danevitch was communicatedwith.

The warehouse of Ferguson, Tauchnitz and Co. was an immenseblock of buildings on the Grand Quay at Riga. The counting-housewas in the very centre of the block, and faced the quay and theharbour. Adjoining, but at the back of the counting-house, wasMr. Ferguson's private room. This room was lighted by a largewindow-overlooking a covered-in courtyard. On three sides of thisyard were platforms provided with cranes and communicating withdifferent floors, and it was here that carts and wagons wereloaded and unloaded.

Frequently when business was very brisk, work was carried onall night at the warehouse; but the murder was committed in theearly spring, when the export trade was only beginning, and theusual hour for closing up was six o'clock, and three o'clock onSaturdays. Mr. Ferguson met his death on Saturday, March 3, aboutseven o'clock. He was the last to leave the office, as heremained behind to close up some business be was engaged upon. Itwas then four o'clock, or thereabouts. He proceeded to his homeon foot, being greeted on the way iv many people who knewhim.

His private residence was in the suburbs of Riga. His familyat home consisted of his wife, two grown-up sons, and twodaughters. He had two other sons, one being established in Hullas the English agent of the firm. The other travelled all overRussia, and was absent at the time of his fathers death. Onarriving at his home, Mr. Ferguson partook of some refreshment.He then told his wife that he had suddenly remembered somethingof importance he neglected to do at the office, and he would goback. He did not say what this something was.

Mrs. Ferguson asked her husband how long he was likely to be,and he answered that he would return in an hour, or an hour and ahalf at the outside. When he left his house it was a few minutespast five. At this time his sons were out. They arrived a littleafter seven, and as their father had not returned, they set off,expecting to meet him. Failing to do that, they went on to thewarehouse. On arriving there they were surprised to find the mainentrance door slightly ajar. They pushed it open and entered. Theplace was in pitch darkness, and there was unbroken silence. Theynaturally thought there was something wrong, otherwise the doorwould not have been open, but did not feel any alarm. They gropedtheir way to their father's room. Darkness and silence there. Inmoving about, Donald, the elder of the two, struck his feetagainst something soft and yielding; he started back with a cryof horror.

'What's the matter?' asked James, the younger one.

'I don't know,' answered Donald; 'but I believe there is abody lying on the floor.'

The young man procured a light as speedily as possible. Thenwas revealed to them Mire enough the sight of their father Kingon his back, with his left leg up, and his right arm bent underhis body. At first the sons thought he had fainted, but thepeculiar and ghastly appearance of his face soon undeceived them,and when they touched him they had painful evidence that theirworst fears were well founded. Terribly alarmed, they rushed outand sought assistance, which was soon forthcoming. The policewere informed and a doctor was procured. The latter at once saidthat Mr. Ferguson was dead, that he had been dead about an hour.The time then was a little after eight o'clock.

'What has my father died of?' asked Donald.

'I am not prepared to say right off,' said the doctor, 'but Isuggest apoplexy.'

Ferguson was a line man. He was above medium height, wellproportioned, muscular, and looked much younger than his years.His age was sixty-eight. He had gray hair, and a long flowingbeard turning gray.

It was now noted by all present that the place was in greatdisorder. Ledgers, cash-books, and other books were lying in aconfused jumble on the floor; papers and documents were scatteredabout in a very unbusiness-like way on the desk. A large safe wasopen, and its contents of papers and books had been hastilydragged out. These signs were suggestive of robbery, and thedoctor was induced thereby to make a more thorough examination ofMr. Ferguson's body. For this purpose the dead man was carriedinto a packing-room and placed on a counter. Then the medical mannoticed the marks on the neck, and having satisfied himself thathe was correct, he said it was a case of murder; Ferguson hadbeen strangled, and there were indications of great force andstrength having been used. Several scratches were noticeable onthe dead man's hands, and abrasions on his head, from which alittle blood had flowed. These things had escaped the doctorsnotice in the uncertain light, but were revealed on closerinspection. They were suggestive of a struggle, a fight for life,and this was corroborated by the way things were scattered aboutthe room.

Other policemen were now brought in, and means were taken toascertain to what extent robbery had been committed; but,strangely enough, on the desk was a cash-box. It was open, andcontained a considerable sum of money. In the safe, soconspicuous that it could not have been overlooked by the eagereyes of a thief who had committed murder in order to rob, was aleather bag full of money. Apparently the bag had not beentouched; the mouth was still tied up with tape. On Mr. Ferguson'sperson were many valuables, including money. It was difficult tounderstand how all this money should have remained untouched, ifthe deed of violence was the result of greed for gain. Why didthe criminal, having committed murder, not avail himself of thehoard that lay to his hand? The investigators were naturallypuzzled in the face of such an inexplicable state of matters.

In the meantime Ferguson's partners had been communicatedwith, and arrived on the scene as speedily as possible. When theyhad made an examination, they expressed an opinion that nothinghad been taken away. That the deceased had been murdered wasevident; that no robbery had been committed was scarcely lessevident. Here was a problem at once.

Did the murderer enter the premises to rob, and, finding themaster there, slay him, and having done this fearful deed, did hebecome so indifferent to his first intent as to go off withoutthe blood-money, which was there for the taking? Having realizedthe extent of his crime, was he so appalled that in his eagernessto escape from the awful scene he forgot the gold? Such a thing-might be possible, but it didn't seem probable. At any rate, itwas hardly in accordance with the principles of debased humannature.

Mr. Tauchnitz, the second partner, who was intimatelyacquainted with the working of the business, and had been withFerguson most of that day, could suggest no reason why thedeceased should have gone back to the warehouse. He had neverbeen known to do such a thing before.

As may be imagined, it was a dreadful night for the friendsand relatives of the deceased; and the hour being so late whenthe discovery was made, the police were placed at a tremendousdisadvantage. Riga is a large place. It is a populous and busyseaport, doing an enormous trade with other parts of Europe. Animmense number of ships of various nationalities were lying inthe harbour.

As in all maritime places, there was a very rough elementalways prominent in the town, and after dark many shameful andbrutal scenes took place. In addition to the sailors who came andwent, there was always a large garrison, for the town is stronglyfortified. So what with sailors and soldiers, and the nondescripthangers-on who are always to be found in their wake, law andorder were not so well observed as in some other towns; and itwill be understood that in the low quarters of such a place acriminal might find safe refuge from pursuing justice.

In the instance we are dealing with, all the police could dowas to notify the facts to their agents and spies as speedily aspossible; but, necessarily, this was the work of hours; andthrough the long, dreary winter night—for, though nominallyspring, the winter still lingered, though the ice had brokenup—not much could be done. This, of course, was all infavour of the criminal. He had a big start, and unless he wasabsolutely a fool he would avail himself of his advantages.

The murder was supposed to have been committed about seven.The discovery was made a little after eight, but it was afternine—in fact, close upon ten—before the police reallybegan to bestir themselves. During the time from half-past six toten, several trains had left the town, vessel-, had left theharbour, and vehicles innumerable were driven forth in alldirections. It will thus be seen that the murderer had many roadsof escape open to him, and it could not be doubted that, if hewas really desirous of saving his neck, he would avail himself ofthe chance he had to get clear.

That the murder was brutal could not be gainsaid; but on theface of it the crime was not one of the ordinary type.Danevitch's preliminary investigations led him to the conclusionthat the motive which had prompted the deed was not robbery. Thatadmitted—and there was evidence of it—the case wasinvested with a certain mystery suggestive of many things.Tauchnitz and the other partners were questioned by Danevitch asto why Mr. Ferguson had remained behind at the office on thatfatal Saturday afternoon, when everybody else had gone. Nosatisfactory answer could be given to this question. Tauchnitz,who had been with Ferguson all the morning, declared that therewas no reason whatever, as far as the business was concerned, whythe ill-fated man should have staved at the office.

'Was he in the habit of staving?'

'No;

'Was he a methodical man?'

'Most methodical.'

'Was he given to making confidants?'

'No. He was very reticent.'

'But he bore the reputation of being straightforward, honest,upright, and just?'

'Unquestionably. He won the respect of all men. His character,so far as one knew, was without blemish.'

The members of the dead man's family spoke of him withprofound sorrow and regret. He had proved himself a modelhusband, a kind, indulgent father, and though he was notcommunicative, either to his family or anyone else, no importancewas attached to that. It was his nature to be somewhat silent andreserved.

Furnished with these meagre particulars, Danevitch began hiswork. From the first he formed the opinion that there was a deepand underlying motive for the crime, which, however, he did notconsider was premeditated. And his reason for so thinking wasthis: A man who deliberately sets forth to slay another in coldblood generally provides himself with some lethal weapon. In thiscase the slayer would hardly have trusted entirely to his hands,unless he was a man of gigantic strength; for though Ferguson waswell advanced in years, he was not only unusually vigorous, butunusually powerful. He was known also to be determined, resolute,fearless. Such a person was not likely to yield up his lifeeasily. Consequently, anyone who was acquainted with him wouldsurely have hesitated before engaging in a personal encounter. Ofcourse it may be suggested that the murderer was an utterstranger, and knew nothing of his victim. But that was not theopinion of Danevitch, whose deductions were as follows:

Firstly, the murder was unpremeditated.

Secondly, the murderer met his victim by appointment. Therewere several reasons for thinking this. It was Saturdayafternoon, and Ferguson had never been known to go back to theoffice after it was closed on Saturday afternoon before. Hispartners were emphatic in saying that there was nothing inconnection with the business which required his personalattention at that time. No valuables having been carried off, sofar as could be ascertained, and the confusion in which thepapers were found, pointed to the motive being a desire on thepart of the murderer to obtain possession of some document whichcertain circ*mstances and conditions, not definable at thatstage, gave a greater importance to than money.

Thirdly, the victim and the murderer having failed to agreeupon some point, and the former, perhaps, proving stubborn andimmovable, the latter, in a sudden frenzy of passion, fell uponhim, and got so much advantage in the very initial stage of thestruggle that he was enabled to conquer with comparative ease,although the victim had made an effort to free himself from thedeath-grip.

Fourthly, the crime having been thus accomplished, and withoutforethought, the criminal, agitated and filled with fear andalarm, frantically turned over papers and books, and rummaged thecontents of the safe, in his eager desire to find what he wanted.Finally, without discovering what he wanted to discover probably,he fled, and in his hurry and confusion forgot to close the doorafter him.

The foregoing was the line of reasoning that Danevitchpursued, but he kept it to himself. It was absolutely andentirely opposed to public opinion, and to the theories set forthby the police.

As is invariably the case at such times, some very wildsuggestions were made; but there was a general tendency tobelieve that robbery was responsible for the crime,notwithstanding that nothing appeared to be missing. But publicopinion did not influence Danevitch. He saw with his own eyes andthought with his own brains, and he came to the conclusion thathe would probably find the key to the puzzle if he knew more ofMr. Ferguson's private life. There, of course, he was at onceconfronted with great difficulty. Everyone spoke well of thevictim. His family believed him perfect. For Danevitch,therefore, to have breathed a word calculated to tarnish, even bysuggestion, the fair fame of this merchant prince and goodcitizen would have been to incur odium and ill-will. But he knewhuman nature too well to run any such risk for the sake of a merehypothesis. The problem, however, had to be solved if possible,and he proceeded upon his own lines to search for a tangibleclue.

In taking up a case of this kind, one must ever feel in theinitial stage that he is groping in the dark; but the trainedmind at once begins to reason the matter out, and the very firstthing sought for is a feasible and probable motive. Motive is thevery keynote in all detective work, and when the motive has beenmore or less accurately guessed, the next stage is to try anddetermine who was likely to have been actuated by that motive.These remarks necessarily apply to complicated cases, where themystery surrounding them seems impenetrable. When a man is foundmurdered in his house, and his valuables have been carried off,the motive is apparent enough. That is a crime of mere vulgarsordidness, and the motive is writ large. All crime is, ofcourse, more or less vulgar, but sordidness is not always theactuating influence. Whether sordidness was or was not at thebottom of this Riga crime, it was difficult at that stage to say;but the inquirer was confronted with the remarkable fact thatnothing seemed to have been stolen.

In spite of the many rumours of this, that, and the other, andthe various opinions expressed, all of which were counter to hisown views, Danevitch remained uninfluenced by them, and adheredto the opinion he had formed, which, as I have endeavoured toshow, was based on sound reasoning. The many documents scatteredabout the office where the murder took place, although carefullyexamined by Danevitch, did not help the inquiry, as they were allbusiness papers, and obviously had been discarded by the murdereras of no value to him. They had been dragged rudely out of thelarge safe, and scattered broadcast on the ground. Now, that waseither the act of a madman, or of someone who was searchinghurriedly for something he knew or believed to exist, and whichhe expected to find in the safe.

Danevitch's next step was to examine the contents of a largewaste-paper basket that stood in the office. The basket was fullof paper, torn and otherwise. He records that this proceeding ofhis was regarded as an absolutely useless one; but those whocondemned it did not know what he was looking for. I have alreadysaid that, in weighing all the particulars he had gathered up sofar, he formed an opinion that Mr. Ferguson had returned to hisoffice to meet somebody by appointment. The reasons for thisopinion have been set forth. One of his strong points was, havingformed an opinion, which he never did until after muchreflection, and a very careful examination of all details, so faras he could gather them up, he would not swerve from that opinionuntil he had proved it wrong; and as soon as ever he wasconvinced that he was in error, he was always ready to admitit.

It is strong testimony to the wonderful perseverance andpatience of the man that every scrap of paper in the basket wascarefully examined. Amongst the great mass he found somefragments which attracted his attention. One scrap bore thefollowing words: 'Door at five.' It was a coarse, commonenough paper, of Russian make, and the formation of the lettersindicated that the writer was an uneducated person. With infinitetrouble and pains he searched for the corresponding morsels ofpaper. And if anyone wants to know what a difficult task it was,let him fill a basket with fragments and shreds of paper, shakethem well up, and then endeavour to pick out certain pieces andfit them together. No Chinese puzzle, complicated and ingeniousas most of them are, was ever harder to do. But human ingenuity,coupled with exemplary patience, will accomplish much, andDanevitch at last succeeded in getting all the scraps together.Then he pasted them in their proper order on a sheet of foolscap,and was thus enabled to read the following:

This is the last chance I shall give you. Youmust see me. I will be opposite your warehouse door at five onSaturday. We can then discuss the matter alone and undisturbed.You need not try to shuffle me off. If you fail to do justice tothose you have wronged, I will make the whole affair public. Sostay away at your peril.

The importance of this discovery could not be overrated;and it not only gave Danevitch a clue, but proved him right inhis surmises. The letter was clearly a laboured one. It was aman's handwriting, and the writer showed that he was not apractised correspondent. There were smudges and smears, and wordswrongly spelt, although in the translation given above it hasbeen deemed advisable to give the correct spelling, because inrendering it from the original into English, if the inaccuracieswere retained, all sense would be lost to the reader.

It was very evident now to Danevitch that Ferguson had had asecret—the secret of some dark transaction, which placedhim so far in the power of an uneducated person that he hadobeyed the command to go to the office, after all was closed upfor the day, in order to hold an interview with the writer, whoneither dated his missive nor signed his name.

Of course Danevitch kept this discovery to himself; and he setto work with all the caution and skill for which he was famed toget some accurate and reliable information of Ferguson'sdisposition and his peculiarities of temperament. Everyone spokehighly of him — indeed, there seemed a general desire tobelaud him, even beyond his merits, perhaps. In commonphraseology, his word was considered as good as his bond. Hisacts were above suspicion; he was eminently respectable; he wascharitable, though there was a feeling that there was a tendencyto ostentation in his giving. In other words, he could hardly beranked amongst that class of men who will not let their righthand know what their left hand gives. His marked peculiaritieswere an obstinately strong will, and his refusal to budge from aposition he had once taken up. In this Danevitch saw a probablecause of the crime, when it was taken in consideration with theletter. The writer had not premeditated the crime, but had beenexasperated into madness by Ferguson's obstinacy. This was thedetective's first deduction, and as he advanced step by step itseemed to receive remarkable confirmation. Finally, as anestimate of Ferguson's character, he was regarded as a faithfuland honourable husband, an affectionate father, a loyal friend.Amongst his workpeople he was looked up to with respect, if notwith actual affection. He was, however, thought an exactingmaster, requiring the full measure of labour he bargained for;but that rendered, he could be considerate enough, and, in fact,did much for the physical and moral welfare of those who servedhim.

Danevitch had now reached a stage in his investigation when hecould congratulate himself on having obtained a clue. It is trueit was a slender one, but to such a man it was of great value. Hefound himself handicapped, however, by the very obviousdisadvantage he would be placed in if he had ventured to suggestthat there was a flaw in Ferguson's character—that he haddone something or other which had placed him in the power of aperson who was far below him in the social scale. Whatever theerror was he had committed, it was clearly serious enough to drawhim back to his warehouse after business hours, in order to havea clandestine interview with that person. As showing Danevitch'sdifficulty, it is worth while recording a conversation he hadwith Mr. Tauchnitz, who, as his name implies, was aGerman—a very shrewd, long-headed fellow, who held hispartner in the highest estimation. Tauchnitz had been associatedwith Ferguson in business for a great many years, and he claimedto know and understand him better than anyone else outside hisown family.

'Do you think, Mr. Tauchnitz,' Danevitch asked—' do youthink that your late lamented partner had by some rash actcompromised himself to such an extent with an inferior as to becompletely in the power of that inferior?'

Tauchnitz looked as though a thunderbolt had suddenly fallenat his feet, and Danevitch had to repeat his question. The answerwas an emphatic, 'No. Certainly not. I believe that Ferguson wasabsolutely incapable of anything of the kind.'

'You had the most perfect faith in him as a business man?'

'Indeed I had.'

'His business integrity was above suspicion?'

'Undoubtedly.'

'He concealed nothing from you you were entitled to know?'

'I have no hesitation in saying he did not;

'Nevertheless, he was regarded as a reticent man.'

'About his own affairs he certainly was reticent;

'Now, if I were to suggest he had been guilty of somedishonourable action, what would you say?'

'I should say you were doing the man a gross injustice,'replied Tauchnitz warmly.

'Had you free access to all the books and papers relating tothe business?'

'Undoubtedly;

'But is it possible that Mr. Ferguson had transactions in hisoffice of which you knew nothing?'

'I won't admit the possibility at all,' answered Tauchnitz,waxing wroth.

'You must remember, sir,' said Danevitch severely, 'I havebeen instructed to try and unravel the mystery surrounding yourlate partner's death.'

'But I don't think you are going the right way to work,'interrupted Tauchnitz.

'That is a matter of opinion,' was the quiet rejoinder. 'Butbe good enough to tell me if Mr. Ferguson kept any private papersin his office?'

'Oh yes; I believe he did.'

'Ah! That is a point gained.'

'He had a large tin box,' proceeded Tauchnitz, in explanation,'in his own room, in which he kept documents which did not relateto the business.'

'You don't know what was in that box, I suppose?

'I haven't the remotest idea.'

'Could I have access to the box, do you think?'

'No; I am sure you could not. I have sent it away to hisfamily.'

The opinion expressed by Mr. Tauchnitz of his partner'sprobity and honour was but a reflex of that which was heldthroughout the town—indeed, it is not too much to saythroughout the greater part of Russia; for Ferguson belonged tothat class of men who understand the art of getting themselvestalked about. He had been wonderfully successful as a merchant,and his name was associated with so many public acts, and he hadshown so much public spirit, so much enterprise, and hadadvocated so many measures calculated to benefit the workingclasses, that he had come to be regarded as a benefactor, aphilanthropist.

It is interesting to dwell upon these points, because thesequel will be in the nature of a surprise. Danevitch's next stepwas to seek an interview with Donald, Mr. Ferguson's eldest son,who was also a partner in the business—as, in fact, all thesons were. Danevitch displayed great caution in dealing withDonald. His experience with Tauchnitz impressed him with thenecessity of exercising all the diplomacy he was capable ofexercising. Donald was much distressed by his father's sad end,and expressed a desire that no stone should be left unturned tobring his murderer to justice; but he evidently inherited hisfather's reticence, and displayed in a very marked manner theScotch characteristic of so-called caution.

'Can you make any suggestion as to the motive for the murder?'asked Danevitch.

'It isn't for me to do that,' was the answer.

'We know that it wasn't robbery,' Danevitch said.

I I'm not so sure about that.'

'But nothing is missing.'

'As far as we know at present, nothing is.'

'Then, do you think something may have been stolen?'

'I won't express an opinion one way or the other.'

'Still, as far as one can judge, nothing was carried off.'

'So far as we can judge, that is so,' answered Donald; 'butthe ways of thieves are incomprehensible.'

'Then, you think that the man who strangled your father wasalso a common thief?'

'I cannot say he was, and I cannot say he wasn't. We have thebroad fact before us that my father was murdered. It is for youto try and find out why he was murdered.'

'I understand, Mr. Donald, that your father kept a box ofprivate papers in his office.'

'He did.'

'Where is that box now?'

'We have it here.'

'Would you allow me to examine the papers?'

'Why?' asked Donald, evincing some surprise.

'Because it is possible—I only say it ispossible—that I might find something amongst them that willhelp me in my inquiry.'

Something like an ironical smile flitted across Donald's faceas he said:

'I don't think that is at all likely.'

'And yet, in the interest of all concerned, I should like toput it to the test. May I do so?'

'You may,' answered Donald, after a pause, 'if my mother andbrother have no objections to your taking that course.'

The mother and brother, being consulted, they gave theirconsent, subject to the two sons being present at the time of theexamination. That being agreed to, the box was brought forth andopened. It was not unlike the tin boxes seen in lawyers' offices,but it was furnished with a peculiar and unusually strong lock,and as the key to fit it could not be found, the services of ablacksmith were secured, and after a great deal of trouble he gotthe lid open. The very first thing that Danevitch's eye fell uponwas a packet, tied round with red tape, and marked in the cornervery legibly, 'In the event of my death burn this packetunopened.'

By an adroit movement he seized that packet unseen by theothers and slipped it into his pocket. He had a feeling that itcontained the solution of the mystery, and he considered that, inthe interests of justice, he was perfectly entitled toappropriate it and examine it.

It was the law of Russia, at any rate, that any papers ordocuments, however private, could be seized if justice was to beaided thereby. If he was mistaken in his surmise, then he wouldcertainly carry out the dead man's request and burn the packet,and any secrets it might reveal to him would never be breathed toliving soul, and the packet once burnt, no one would be anywiser. The other papers in the box were looked through, but therewas nothing found that could be of any use—nothing of acompromising character, and the sons seemed gratified andpleased.

An hour or two later, locked in his room at the hotel where hewas staying, Danevitch opened the packet, and its contentsrevealed to him in a very short time an astounding story, and puthim on the track of the murderer.

He found, as he had all along suspected, that Donald Ferguson,the upright merchant, the man of unimpeachable honour, thephilanthropist, the public-spirited citizen, the defender of theweak, the faithful husband, the good father, had been very human,very weak. From the particulars furnished by the secret packet ofpapers, Danevitch gradually learnt the following story.

A woman named Blok had come some years before Ferguson'smurder to reside in Riga. She had spent the greater part of herlife in a small town in the far interior of Russia. Her husbandhad followed the occupation of a boatman on the Volga, beingassisted by his two sons, Alex and Peter. He had two daughters,Catherine and Anna. The Blok family were held in high estimationby all who knew them. Although occupying but a comparativelyhumble position in the social scale, they were eminentlyrespectable, and were regarded as hard-working, honest people. Ofcourse, they were very poor, and were not able to make much, ifany, provision for old age or accident. One day Blok and his sonAlex were drowned. A steamer laden with convicts on their way toSiberia ran their boat down during a dense fog. At certainseasons of the year fogs are very prevalent on the Volga River.The breadwinner of the family being thus suddenly taken away, theBloks found themselves without means of support. The youngestson, Peter, was then but eighteen, and unable to earn more thanwould suffice for his own wants. Under these circ*mstances, andacting on the advice of a married sister, who resided in Rigawith her husband, who was a shipwright, Mrs. Blok removed to Rigawith her two daughters, hoping that in the busy seaport theywould all be able to find some employment.

Catherine, the younger of the two girls, was noted for hergood looks. They were both pretty girls, in fact, but Catherinewas exceptionally attractive. Moreover, she was bright,intelligent, and in a certain way clever. They had not been inRiga very long before they both obtained work in the firm ofFerguson, Tauchnitz, and Co. It appears that they very soonattracted the notice of Mr. Ferguson, who displayed greatinterest in them and improved their position very much. Sixmonths later Anna fell seriously ill through blood-poisoning,caused by pricking her finger at the warehouse, and, in spite ofthe best medical advice provided for her by Mr. Ferguson, shedied.

It was well known that Mr. Ferguson showed the greatestkindness to the family during their trouble, and all the expensesof the funeral were defrayed by him. Peter Blok, the onlysurviving son, came to Riga at this time to attend his sister'sfuneral, and it seemed that Mr. Ferguson took a fancy to him, andgave him employment in the warehouse, where he remained for aboutthree months. At the end of that time he was sent on board avessel belonging to the firm, and made several voyages, andfinally he was placed in command of a river-boat employed in theAstrakhan trade.

About two years after Anna's death the Blok family, to thesurprise of everyone, suddenly left Riga. The reason of theirgoing, and the place where they were going to, were alike keptsecret. For a few weeks before they went, Catherine remained athome on the plea of ill-health. She did not seem ill, and nobodythought she was ill, consequently the astonishment of hercompanions was great, as may be imagined. It would appear thatCatherine Blok was a somewhat remarkable girl in this way. Shewas exceptionally good-looking. She was far above the averagepeasant in intelligence. Had the opportunity been afforded, herintellectual powers would probably have enabled her to take asuperior position in life—that is to say, superior to vastnumbers of people occupying the same plane as herself. What ismeant by this will be better understood if it is borne in mindthat, as a rule, the Russian peasantry are more ignorant and morestupid, probably, than any other peasantry in the world. Thereare two main causes for this. The primary one is climatic; thesecondary the powerful influence of the Church. The climaticconditions are a very long and terribly severe winter, which fora period ranging from seven to eight months prevents the peasantfrom labouring out of doors; in consequence of this he is reducedto much the same condition as hibernating animals. His winterlife, in fact, is one of enforced indolence and inactivity. Hishouse is insanitary, comfortless, and more or less filthy. Hiswhole surroundings are calculated to debase and brutalize him. Hehas no intellectual enjoyments because he has no intellectualyearnings. He is content to live as his father and grandfatherbefore him lived. What was good enough for them is good enoughfor him, he says. As regards the influence of his Church, thatmakes itself felt from his earliest years. He is taught tobelieve that he has no right to reason or question. Everythingmust be accepted in blind, implicit faith. Such education as hereceives is of the most elementary character; and havinginherited from his forefathers dullness of perception and alethargic temperament, he does not concern himself about anythingbeyond gratifying his animal wants.

Of course, there are exceptions to all this. Among the teemingmillions of Russia this must obviously be the case. The Blokfamily were a very notable example indeed, and Catherine was thehead of them.

It presents a most interesting study in psychology—though it cannot be touched upon here except in a passingway—that Ferguson, the rich merchant, the broad-mindedcitizen, the respected husband and affectionate father, shouldhave been irresistibly attracted to Catherine Blok, the veryhumble-born and ignorant peasant. Yet so it was, and whenCatherine left Riga, she was influenced thereto by Ferguson, andher object in going was to conceal, as far as could be concealed,the fact that the merchant prince and the peasant girl had met ona common ground; and as is invariably the result under suchcirc*mstances, and in such a case, the meeting was fraught withterrible consequences to both of them.

When Mrs. Blok and Catherine left Riga, they retired toValdai, in the Valdai Hills, in the province of Novgorod, to thesouth of St. Petersburg. Valdai was a very quiet, out-of-the-wayplace. Here the mother and daughter took up their quarters in astone-built house, and enjoyed comfort, convenience, and luxury,which must have been Aery novel to them. They knew no one, andwere utterly unknown; nor did they seek to be known or to know.At regular intervals, about once a month, a man visited them. Hewas in the habit of going to St. Petersburg. There he posted toValdai, a distance of nearly a hundred miles. He could have gonequite close to the place by train, but he preferred the round-about way for reasons of his own. He invariably arrived at Valdaiat night, and when he left he always went away early in themorning.

This sort of thing went on for something like three years.Then the visits of the man ceased, but correspondence passedbetween him and Catherine, who was the mother of a son about twoand a half years old. The man had looked after her and heroffspring, but not as liberally as he might and ought to havedone. At last differences arose between them. These differenceswere traceable to Mrs. Blok. She thought, probably not withoutsome justification, that her daughter had not been treated well.In the end the man exacted from Catherine a document, which wassigned by herself and countersigned by her mother. In thisdocument, which was very artfully drawn up, and was not, it isneedless to say, Catherine's composition, the man was representedas having been the victim of extortion and blackmailing, and thegirl stated that it was impossible for her to fix the parentageof her son. It need hardly be said that the man who was in thehabit of visiting Catherine at Valdai, and who took suchextraordinary precautions to prevent his visits being known toanyone else, was Donald Ferguson, the merchant of Riga.

By means of the papers found in the packet which he took fromFerguson's private box, aided and supplemented by many andpatient inquiries, Danevitch was enabled to work out theforegoing pitiable little story. During the time he was soengaged—it extended over several weeks— there was anoutcry against him. He was expected to do so much; and those whoought to have known better thought he was doing so little. Ofcourse the general public did not know that he was engaged in thebusiness at all, and, with the pig-headedness and stupiditypeculiar to a mob, they railed against the authorities, saying itwas shameful that so popular, upright, and true a man as Mr.Ferguson should be strangled to death in a place considered to beso well policed and watched as Riga; and yet all the vigilanceand all the cleverness of the police were powerless alike to staythe crime and to bring the criminal to justice when the crime hadbeen committed.

'Our lives and property are not safe,' exclaimed the rabble.'The police are supine; they are useless; they are in league withthe knaves who prey upon honest citizens. If this is not so, howis it they have not brought Mr. Ferguson's murderer to book?'

This was the tone adopted by a low Radical anti-Governmentpaper, which styled itself the organ and the mouthpiece of thepeople. Although as a rule it was opposed to the moneyed andprivileged classes, it was pleased in this instance—becauseit gave it a raison d'être for hurling abuse at the headsof the authorities—to place Mr. Ferguson upon a pinnacle ofgreatness, and to speak of him almost as if he were a martyredsaint. The rulers in Russia are peculiarly sensitive to, andintolerant of, criticism, and the authorities in Riga, stung bythe lashings of the local organ, lunged out, so to speak, andgrabbed the first person they could lay their hands on. TheRussian police have a habit of doing this when driven todesperation.

In the Riga case the arrests were made so indiscriminately andfatuously that the unfortunate suspects, after enduring muchmisery and indignity, were set at liberty with a growl that wasnot unlike a curse, and the local paper hurled more thunderboltsat the heads of the police, and showed a disposition to canonizethe murdered man at the expense of the authorities. During allthe time that this agitation was going on, Danevitch was workingslowly but surely at his task of drawing aside the curtain andrevealing the mystery. But those in authority above him, in spiteof his record, considered that he was fumbling in the dark, andlooking for clues in impossible places. But having learntsomething about Mr. Ferguson's skeleton from that packet ofprivate papers, which was to be destroyed unopened in the eventof Mr. Ferguson's death, he proceeded on his own lines. It wouldnot be easy to give a reason that would satisfy all minds why Mr.Ferguson kept those incriminating documents; but no doubt hethought that as long as he lived the confession — if itcould be so called—which he had exacted from Catherine Blokwould effectually protect him against any further claims shemight be inclined to make against him; because he could confronther with that document, and say, k Look here, you acknowledgecertain things. Here is your confession in black and white signedwith your name. Therefore, if you don't leave me alone I willcharge you with blackmailing me.'

This, of course, was the weapon of a cunning and artful manwhich he used to menace and subdue the ignorant, the weak andwronged woman. He knew well enough in his own mind that he darenot make that document public; for though part of the girl'sstatement might be believed, he would not come off scot-free, forwould not people say, 'If you had nothing to fear, why did youget that confession from her?'

The first step which Danevitch took after reading the contentsof the sealed packet was to learn something of the Blok family;and to that end, in the character of an old vagrant man, hevisited the mother and the daughter in their retreat at Valdai.It took him some time to gather the materials for the littlefamily history already narrated. Necessarily, before he could dothat, he had to worm himself into their confidence, and he wouldnot have succeeded in doing that had he not laid a pretendedclaim to occult powers, which enabled him to read the past anddivine the future. With such people as the Bloks this went a longway. They, in common with their class, had a fixed belief incharms, fortune-telling and spells.

When Danevitch saw the infant son of Catherine, heexclaimed:

'Ah, that is a fine child! but alas for his future!'

'How so? What mean you?' asked the young mother in alarm.

'The child that knows not his father is ill-starred.'

'Knows not his father!' echoed Catherine, with flashing eyes,and a voice tremulous with indignation. 'How dare you say that?'she added menacingly, as she stamped her foot.

'Think you,' asked the pseudo-seer, 'that I can be deceived? Isee with eves different to yours. That child knows not hisfather, and never will know him, for he is dead.'

Here Catherine burst into tears, and between her sobs sheexclaimed:

'It's true, it's true, it's true!'

'Of course it is,' said Danevitch, with an air of triumph.Catherine recovered herself, and in an irascible tone said:

'No doubt you are very clever; but I doubt if you can tell mehow his father died.'

Danevitch closed his eyes for some moments, and drew his handdown his face like one deeply immersed in thought. Then, suddenlystarting up, he answered solemnly:

'He was done to death foully. He was strangled.'I

Catherine was terribly distressed, and, sinking into a chair,she covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly.

Mrs. Blok, who was present, was indignant, and said angrily toDanevitch:

'Get you out of the house. You distress my daughter. She is anhonest woman, and we do not want to hear anything more fromyou.'

'Be not angry, good mother,' said Danevitch. 'Your daughterquestioned, and I answered.' Then, with sudden and startlingabruptness, he asked, 'Where is your son?'

The mother's face grew pale, and, with evident distress andemotion, she said:

'He is dead.'

'Yes, one is; he moulders at the bottom of the Volga; but theliving one, the living one, where is he?'

Mrs. Blok looked appalled, and drew back from this strange oldman from whom nothing seemed hidden, and before she could answer,Catherine started up, passionate and flushed, and criedexcitedly:

'Leave us, leave us! in the name of the Great Father, go! Mybrother is far away; hundreds of versts of sea divide him fromhis native land, and mayhap he will come back no more.'

'It were well for him if he stayed away.' remarked Danevitchwith solemnity. 'But why grow angry with me, my child.' I havesorrow for you; I have tears for you. You have been ensnared,deluded, cheated; and he who ensnared you and cheated you stoodhigh in the estimation of men. The penalty of his folly was hislife. He has paid it. For your weakness blood lies at your door,and nothing can ever wash it away.'

At these words Catherine uttered a smothered cry, and fellinto her mothers arms, and Mrs. Blok, excited and enraged,screamed at him:

'Out of the house, I tell you, out of the house! You laymurder to our charge, and you lie. Go away! I command you inGod's name to go.' She crossed herself as she spoke, and with herfinger drew an imaginary cross between herself and the prophet ofevil, murmuring as she did so: 'We are defenceless women; Godshield us!'

The painful and dramatic scene affected Danevitch, and hesilently withdrew; but he felt that he had got confirmation ofhis surmises, for as soon as he learnt the story of the family,he came to the conclusion in his own mind that the man who haddeprived Ferguson of his life was Catherine's unhappy brother.The young fellow, proud-spirited and honest, flamed up at hissisters wrong, and, taking the matter in his own hands, hadpenned that letter to Ferguson demanding an interview. It wasobvious there had been other letters written, because the writersaid, 'This is the last chance I shall give you.' Who could havewritten that letter—which Danevitch so patiently piecedtogether from the shreds picked out of the waste-paperbasket—if it had not been the brokenhearted brother? Heknew Ferguson, he had been employed in the warehouse; and thegreat wrong his sister had suffered made him desperate—madehim forget the social division which separated him from hissister's wronger. He went to him, not with robbery in hisheart—he was too proud for that—not with murder inhis heart, but to demand that the false statement which had beenwrung from poor Catherine should be given up to him, and thatFerguson should recognise the claims the girl and the child hadupon him.

It was easy to work out the sequel. Peter went to the office:he wanted the paper his sister had signed. He probably grewangry, and threatened his employer. The employer was obstinate,stubborn, perhaps insulting, until, stung into frenzy, theunhappy youth flew at him, and, blinded by his passion, Peter hadcrushed the life out of the man before he knew it. Youthfulstrength and fury made Peter Blok a murderer, although he mayhave had no wish to slay his victim. Finding, to his dismay, thatdeath had silenced for ever the lips of his sister's betrayer, hemade a frantic effort to discover the paper which he knew was inFerguson's possession. But his search proving fruitless, he fledwith remorse, no doubt, gnawing at his heart.

Danevitch says that never throughout his career did he startto hunt down a man with greater reluctance than he did in thecase of Peter Blok. With the exception of Danevitch himself, noone suspected Peter, and as it had taken him some weeks to learnwhat he had learnt, the young fellow had got a start which wouldprobably save him from the law's vengeance.

Danevitch, proceeding with great caution and tact, found outthat Peter had been second in command of a river-boat engaged inbringing furs down from Astrakhan. The boat was one of the riverfleet belonging: to Ferguson, Tauchnitz, and Co. Three weeksbefore the crime in Riga, Peter obtained leave of absence inorder to visit his mother, who was sick. As it was a long journeyto where his mother was living, his lengthened absence did notarouse any suspicion. After the commission of the crime, therewas every reason to believe he quitted Riga at once, andDanevitch satisfied himself that Peter had not gone to Valdaiagain. As he had already spent several days there with his motherand sister, had he returned he must have been noticed, for it wasa small place, and a stranger was spotted immediately.

From what Danevitch had gathered during his interview, in thecharacter of a Gipsy, with Catherine and her mother, he inferredthat Catherine, at any rate, if not Mrs. Blok, knew that Peterwas going to see Ferguson. And from what Catherine said duringthe interview—' My brother is faraway; hundreds of verstsof sea divide him from his native land, and maybe he will comeback no more'—the deduction was Peter had gone to sea.Being a sailor, he would probably experience no difficulty inobtaining a ship. And it was equally feasible to suppose thatbefore going he wrote to his sister, telling her he was going farbeyond the seas.

The most diligent and careful inquiries in Riga failed toelicit any sign that Peter had sailed from that port, and it waslikely enough that he had made his way to some other port on theBaltic Sea, or else to Cronstadt. Anyway, he could not be found;and as Danevitch could not entertain a doubt that Peter hadkilled Ferguson, he felt bound, as a matter of duty, to circulatea description of him. This description, however, was not madepublic, but placed in the hands of the police and their thousandand one spies. A whole year passed, however, and no trace ofPeter was obtained. The crime had died out of the public memory,though not out of that of the police. They have long memories,and thus it came to pass that one day it was announced that thesupposed murderer of Donald Ferguson, the merchant of Riga, hadbeen arrested in St. Petersburg. Although he had grown a beardand whiskers, he was soon identified as Peter Blok, and a ship'sdischarge upon him showed that he had come from New York toCronstadt in an American ship.

Up to this point Danevitch had kept his knowledge ofFerguson's wrong-doing to himself, but now that Peter Blok wasunder lock and key he was bound to make the matter public. To thepeople of Riga it was like a bombshell suddenly dropped in theirmidst. Everywhere where Ferguson's name was known, it was ashock. At first doubts were thrown upon it; then there were openand loud expressions of disbelief; but the damning documents wereproduced, and could not be gainsaid. Then many sympathizers withPeter came forward when the reaction set in, and he was providedwith funds for his defence; and, of course, at the trial thewhole miserable story was pitilessly unfolded, until everyoneknew it. It was a bitter, terrible blow to the Ferguson family.It redounds to their credit, however, that they unostentatiouslymade the most ample provision for Catherine and her mother, andthe boy was provided for in such a way that it was not likely hewould ever want, and it was stated that he was to be welleducated and well brought up.

The trial of young Blok clearly proved that nearly allDanevitch's surmises and deductions were correct. The lad hadheard through his mother of his sisters wrong, and from hissister herself he learnt how Ferguson, in order to save himself,had wrung from the unhappy girl that false confession, which,when she signed, she knew very little about. It was not untillater that she realized how she had belied herself. Naturallythat incensed her, and her brother—smarting with shame andbroken pride—placed himself in communication with Ferguson,who at first tried to ignore him, until at last, threatened withexposure, he granted that interview which proved fatal tohim.

When the story was all told, a revulsion of feeling in theprisoner's favour took place, and he received the mild sentenceof seven years' banishment in Siberia.

VI. — THE GREAT CONSPIRACY

COUNT OBOLENSK had resided in London for a goodmany years. He occupied a magnificent house in the neighbourhoodof Hyde Park, where he lived in almost regal style. He kept aretinue of servants. The furnishings and appointments of hisprincely abode were said to be unique; and he dispensedhospitality with a lavish hand. He was known to be wealthy, to bea member of a very old and influential Russian family, and at onetime to have held a high political position in his own country.Here the general knowledge of his affaire ended; but therewere vague and ill-defined impressions in the public mind that hehad been expelled or had fled from Russia owing to some of thosepolitical causes which in Russia count for so much, but which inmost other countries, or at any rate in England, would be treatedwith contempt. But whatever the reasons were which had inducedthe Count to take up his residence in London, those who enjoyedhis acquaintance and hospitality did not allow themselves to betroubled by them. In his own country he might have been regardedas little short of Satanic in his iniquity for aught that thethrongs of people who attended his receptions, his at-homes andparties, knew or cared.

The majority of mankind, in its concrete selfishness andgluttony, thinks little and cares less about the personalqualities of those who minister to its sensuous gratifications;what most concerns it is the quality and nature of the giver'sgifts. Let these be liberal and lavish, and nothing more isasked.

In Count Obolensk's case it was universally admitted that heexcelled as a host, that his benevolence knew no bounds, and hedispensed charity with a cosmopolitan open-handedness which wasworthy of all praise. Personally he was a handsome man, with thetact and refinement of a courtier, and the delicacy and deferenceof a true-bred gentleman.

He was a widower, with two grown-up daughters—Catherineand Natalya[*]—both handsome young women; while at the headof his household, as general manageress, was an English lady,known as Mrs. Sherard Wilson, who, it was generally understood,had lived in Russia for a good many years.

[* Note. The book has "Nathalia."]

She was a fine-looking woman, of commanding presence andstrong personality. She invariably presided at the Count's socialfunctions, and acted as chaperon to his daughters. Of her historyno one knew anything, and nobody seemed concerned about it. Shewas a power in the Count's household; and while she provedherself to be a woman of exceeding great tact, and one who hadmade the art of finesse a study, there was a tacit understandingthat anyone who offended her ever so slightly could never hope toenjoy again the hospitality of the house over which shepresided.

Her general characteristics could be summed up thus: she wasclever beyond the ordinary, well educated, a good linguist, atasteful and excellent hostess; she was well informed, had morethan a passing taste for politics, and appeared to have beenacquainted with many of the leading statesmen of her time. Ofthem she would talk freely; about herself she was silent, and hewould have been a bold man indeed who would have made the attemptto 'draw her out'; he would most certainly have come to grief.She was frequently absent from London; sometimes for a few days,at others for weeks. But where she went to, why she went, andwhat she did, were mysteries, and the eve of vulgar curiosity wasunable to penetrate them. One thing was noted as peculiar: theCount's daughters never accompanied her.

One night at the end of January, a night that, according toRussian reckoning, was New Year's Eve, and usually celebratedwith great ceremony in Russia, there was a reception at theCount's house. It was one of the few occasions when everynationality save Russian was excluded. It had been one of thosetrying and maddening days, peculiar to the English climate inJanuary. A leaden sky, a choking, foggy atmosphere, a generalgloominess, and a sense of that awful depression which seems tojustify all the hard things said about our climate byforeigners.

However, the weather notwithstanding, there was a largegathering at the Count's house. Russians had come from France,from Germany, from Switzerland, in order to be present, and theymade up a brilliant assembly. According to Russian custom, therewas a religious ceremony first of all. Then followed a sumptuousrepast, which included almost every known Russian dish. Afterthat the Count and his guests retired to a large, heavily-curtained room, which, compared with other apartments in thehouse, was plainly furnished. It was lighted iv three longwindows on the east side, but each of these windows was screenedby massive velvet curtains, which completely shut out the fog andthe gloom, while a very handsome twelve-light gaselier, withtinted, rose-coloured shades, diffused a soft and agreeable lightthroughout the apartment. The floor was covered with an unusuallythick carpet laid on very stout felt. Not only was this mostcomfortable to the feet, but it deadened sound, and the footfallsof the heaviest person walking across the room could not beheard. At one end of the room was a deep angle or recess, andplaced diagonally in this recess was a large carved oak bureau orwriting-desk.

The entrance to the chamber was by a panelled doorway, closedby an ordinary door, masked by a second door lined with thick redfelt or baize. This excluded draught as well as sound. Andassuming that anyone had been prompted by curiosity or othercause to play eavesdropper, he would have needed an abnormallyacute sense of hearing to have gathered any of the conversationcarried on in the room. At the opposite end of theapartment—which was oblong—was another door, givingaccess to a small anteroom, the walls of which were lined withshelves filled with books.

On the evening in question, when the Count and his guestsretired to the large chamber described, they made it evident thatthey wished to be free from any possibility of interruption, forthe baize-covered door was locked inside, and so was itscompanion door. The curtains at the windows were so closely drawnthat human eye could not by any possible means have discernedfrom the outside what was going on in the inside.

In this room the Count and his visitors remained for over twohours. They talked much, but not loudly nor excitedly. Nearlyeveryone smoked, until the atmosphere became heavy and thick, inspite of a large ventilator in the ceiling. But nobody seemed tomind the heat or the foetidness. Every man appeared to be veryearnest and absorbed with what was going on, and when he rolled anew cigarette, he generally did it in a preoccupied and automaticsort of way. Occasionally the host, who sat at the large desk inthe recess, made notes, and read them out to the company.Sometimes what had been written was approved of; at othersdissent was expressed, and discussion ensued. Then the writingwould either be altered or allowed to remain as first written,according to the wishes of the majority.

It was two o'clock in the morning when the meeting broke up.Then the Count carefully locked his desk, and placed the keys inhis pocket. He unlocked the doors, and led his guests to thespacious dining-room, where light refreshments were provided. Aquarter of an hour or twenty minutes later a man very cautiouslyrose up in the recess in the room where the meeting had beenheld, and where he had been concealed behind the bureau orwriting-desk, and, stretching his cramped limbs, he got out,crept towards the door, listened intently, and, having assuredhimself that the coast was clear, hurried out. At three o'clocksuch of the guests as were not staying in the house began to taketheir departure, a few in broughams, the majority in cabs, whichhad been waiting through the bitter night.

As most people know, the Russian New Year time is kept up withgreat festivity; and, hospitable though he was at all times, theCount, if possible, excelled himself on this occasion, and thosewho were privileged to be present went away with a feeling thatthey might have travelled the wide world over without meetingwith such princely entertainment so delicately and gracefullydispensed. Host, hostess, and the host's daughters were alwaysvoted perfect, and very lavish praise was uttered when Mrs.Sherard Wilson was referred to, the English people particularly,who had the entrée to the Count's rooms during the festivegatherings, expressing their admiration in no measured terms.

At last the series of New Year receptions and entertainmentscame to an end, and there was a lull, which was taken advantageof by the Misses Obolensk to make their arrangements for aforthcoming ball, which they intended to give on a grand scale.The organizing of this ball was left entirely to the youngladies, as Mrs. Sherard Wilson was on the eve of departure on ajourney to the Continent. The Count never concerned himself abouthis domestic or social arrangements; he left everything to theladies. He was a great reader, and he wrote a good deal. Suchexercise as he took he got either in his carriage or onhorseback. He did not visit much, but was passionately fond ofmusic, and went to all the principal concerts, and occasionallyattended the theatres. His was a routine life; he was veryregular in his habits, and one day was much like another withhim. His position in every way seemed an enviable one, andapparently he lived in amity with all men. All those who knew himrespected and honoured him.

About a fortnight after the gathering of Russians at hishouse to celebrate the New Year's Eve, Miss Natalya Obolensk wasdescending the main stairway in a white satin evening dress, witha magnificent red camellia in her hair, for she was going to agrand concert with her father, and the carriage was waiting atthe door. Coming after her was a liveried man-servant bearing alarge tray full of tea-things, including a kettle of hot water, asilver teapot with the remains of the tea in it, a large jug ofcream, and other things, that he had just brought from thedrawing-room. He was a stolid, stupid-looking man, and suddenlyhe justified his looks by stumbling and scattering the contentsof the tray over the young lady, tea, hot water, jelly, beingpoured over her splendid dress, to its ruin. She uttered a shrillcry of alarm, which quickly brought her father, Mrs. Wilson, andsome of the other servants into the hall, and a very dramaticscene ensued. The shock to her nerves, and the realization thatthe mishap had not only spoilt her pretty frock, but wouldprevent her going to the concert, had such an effect upon Natalyathat she flew down the few remaining stairs, flung her arms abouther father's neck, and fainted.

In the meantime the author of the mischief presented a verysorry spectacle. He seemed thoroughly ashamed of himself, andundecided whether to bolt at once or gather up the wreckage. Norwas his confusion and distress lessened by the torrent of abuseand passionate scolding which fell from Mrs. Sherard Wilson'slips. In the choicest of Russian she told him he was a I dolt,'an 'idiot,' a 'fool,' a 'brute beast.'

'Leave the things, you stupid!' she exclaimed fierily. 'Eversince you entered the house, you have done nothing but makemistakes and smash things up. But it's the last chance you'llhave of doing mischief here. In ten minutes you'll be out. Do youmark what I say? Ten minutes only, and if you are not out of thehouse, then the other servants shall kick you out.'

'If you please, my lady,' whined the man, 'I am entitled to amonth's notice or a month's wages.'

'You will get neither, you blockhead!' replied the lady. 'Why,your month's wages won't pay for the things you've broken. Andwhat business had you coming down the main staircase. It was yourplace to use the servants' staircase.'

'I'm very sorry,' moaned Andrey, 'and beg your pardon.'

'Sorry, you wretch! well you may be!' exclaimed the iratelady, unappeased by the culprit's penitence; 'but get out of mysight, and in ten minutes you must have left the house.Paul'—this to the head butler—'Paul, I charge you tosee the fellow is off the premises in ten minutes.'

With this peremptory command, she hastened to the reception-room, whither the Count had had his daughter conveyed. He wasmuch annoyed, but did not allow his annoyance to find expression,as Mrs. Wilson did.

Natalya had by this time recovered from her faint, and wasbewailing her woe-begone condition, and the blighted prospects ofan evening's enjoyment. Her father was urging her to go upstairsand change her dress, saying that they could still be in time forthe concert, but she said it was impossible; she was too muchupset, and had neither energy nor inclination to perform hertoilet over again, notwithstanding that she had two maids to waitupon her. Finding that she was inflexible on this point, herfather expressed a hope that she would soon regain her composure,and that he would see her at supper-time, and leaving her to thecare of Mrs. Wilson, he retired to his study. In a little morethan ten minutes the butler came to Mrs. Wilson and announcedthat Andrey had gone.

'Thank goodness!' exclaimed the lady. 'I am sure I never hadsuch a stupid person in my service before. Whatever were youdoing to engage such a dolt?'

'He came to me very well recommended, madame.'

'Then, those who recommended him ought to be ashamed ofthemselves; that's all that I've got to say. It's really shamefulthat people who call themselves honest should recommendincompetent servants in order to get them off their hands.'

'I am afraid it's frequently done, madame,' the butlerremarked.

'That is no excuse.'

'I do not offer it as an excuse, madame. I agree with you thatit is shameful.'

'But surely when you engaged Andrey you might have seen thathe was a fool.'

'No, madame, I did not,' answered the butler with some show ofwounded dignity. 'He seemed sharp enough at first. His stupidityset in afterwards. I fancy he is a little given to drink, thoughI've never missed anything, and have never seen him really theworse for liquor.'

'How long is it since he came here?' demanded the ladywarmly.

'Just six weeks, I think.'I

'That's six weeks too long. Take good care that the next manyou engage knows his business.'I The butler bowed and wasretiring, when Mrs. Wilson called him back. 'Stay a minute. Youare aware that I am leaving London to-morrow, and may be absentthree or four weeks. You had better not engage anyone else untilI return.'

'But, madame, we shall be short-handed, and—'

'I don't care whether you are short-handed or not. You will doas I tell you.'

Paul knew that it would be fatal to his interests to attemptto argue with his mistress when she was in a bad temper, so hemade his bow and discreetly withdrew.

'Now, Natalya,' said Mrs. Wilson, when the man had left them,'away you go upstairs, change your dress and take your father tothe concert. You know how disappointed he will be if he doesn'tgo, and as I am leaving to-morrow, I don't wish to see himmiserable and unhappy. You know what a sensitive man he is, andthough he doesn't say much, he feels the more.'

This appeal had its effect. Natalya's ruffled feelings hadsmoothed down.

'Very well, I will go,' she said; 'but it's an awful nuisancehaving to change my things in a hurry.'

She rang for her maids, and while Mrs. Wilson gave orders thatthe carriage was to be kept at the door, Natalya hurried to herroom, reappearing in about twenty minutes, looking, as far aspersonal appearance was concerned, as if nothing had happened,though there was still an expression of worry and concern on herhandsome face. Mrs. Wilson had already warned the Count not tosettle himself to his reading, as he would still be able to go tothe concert. He was delighted at this, for he did not like tohave his plans changed, and he was waiting in the hall when hisdaughter came downstairs.

'Well, my dear,' he said to her in complimentary strains, 'youlook charming in spite of the little contretemps. It's an illwind that blows nobody any good, and I suppose the spoilt dressmeans a fresh order to your dressmaker, and a further lighteningof my purse.'

He laughed pleasantly, and, following his daughter into thecarriage, they drove off, and after all were in time to hear thebest part of the concert.

When Mrs. Wilson and Natalya appeared at the breakfast-tablethe next morning, they had both recovered from the previousevenings little annoyance. Mrs. Wilson was somewhat hasty-tempered, but she very soon got over her small outbursts, and herusual condition was a very pleasant geniality. During thebreakfast, Andrey's gross stupidity was discussed and laughed at;and when I he Count, with his usual generosity, said he thoughtthat the fellows wages should be sent to him, for, in spite ofhis stupidity, it was after all an accident, the lady acquiesced,and a little later she put up the amount in a packet, andinstructed Paul to see that Andrey got it. Then she busiedherself during the rest of the day in seeing that everything wasin 'apple-pie order' previous to her departure, for whenever shewas away the management of the household devolved almost entirelyupon the servants. It was true there was an excellenthousekeeper, and Catherine was exceedingly domesticated; besidesthis, she took an interest in the house. Nevertheless Mrs. Wilsonwas always under the impression that her absence meantdisruption, and that it was impossible for things to How smoothlywhile she was away. It was a pleasant little bit of conceit anddid no harm, for while it gratified her it amused the others.

Dinner was unusually early that evening, for Mrs. Wilson hadto catch the night mail to Dover. Her luggage—she nevertravelled without a considerable quantity—had previouslybeen conveyed to the station, and, dinner over, she arrayedherself in a costly and handsome Russian fur cloak, and, incompany with her maid, was driven in her brougham to HolbornViaduct, and a first-class compartment was specially reserved forherself and her companion.

The weather was still atrocious. It was bitterly cold. Therehad been a drizzling rain all day long. The mud in the streetswas of inky colour, and of glutinous consistency. People flittedby in the foggy atmosphere like ghosts, and not all the lights ofLondon could relieve the gloom and depressing atmosphericeffects. There were very few passengers that night; but amongstthem was a man of medium height, attired in a long ulster and asealskin cap, the flaps of which were turned down until his facewas all but hidden. He had taken a second-class ticket, and heand a young German, a commercial traveller, were the onlyoccupants of the compartment. When Dover was reached, the rainwas pouring down, the sea roared, and Channel-ward all was darkas Erebus. The man in the ulster, whose only luggage consisted ofa handbag, hurried on board the small steamer, which was grindingaway at the pier as the water tossed her up and down. Ensconcinghimself in the shadow of the funnel, he watched the passengers asthey descended the unsteady gangway; and having seen Mrs. Wilsonand her maid come on board and retire to the cabin reserved forthem, he dived down into the saloon and ordered supper, for hewas hungry.

The crossing was an exceedingly rough one. The wretchedco*ckleshell of a steamer which the railway company consideredgood enough to carry their passengers from one shore to the otherwas tossed about in a manner well calculated to alarm any buthardened travellers. The man in the ulster, however, was notaffected. Having enjoyed a good supper, and washed it down with apint of champagne, he produced from his case a very big and verystrong-looking cigar, and lighting it, he battened his sealskincap down on his head and went on deck, where he remained untilthe steamer glided into Calais Harbour from the storm-tossedwaters of the Channel. He remained until Mrs. Wilson and her maidhad gone on shore. Then he followed, carrying his hand-bag. Hewent into the douane, had his hag examined, saw a porterdeposit the lady's wraps and rugs in the first-class compartmentof the carriage labelled 'Through carriage to Geneva,'and, that done, placed his own bag in an adjoining compartment,and as his second-class ticket had only been from London toCalais, he secured a first-class for Geneva, and was one of thevery few passengers who travelled that dark and stormy night tothe French capital of Switzerland on the shores of LakeLeman.

At the period of this story Alexander II. sat upon the throneof All the Russias. It is a matter of history now that he was oneof the best-threatened monarchs who ever ruled over a so-calledcivilized people. His life had been attempted so many times thathe lived in constant fear and dread, and the most extraordinarymeasures were taken for his preservation. He changed his bedroomevery night; his palace was filled with soldiers; his food wascooked by special cooks, who were solemnly sworn in in accordancewith the rites of their Church to protect him; nevertheless,their chef had to appear in the royal presence at everymeal and taste all the dishes before they were served to hisaugust master. But even then dozens of eyes watched the man'severy movement, lest he might adroitly slip poison into the food.It was a terrible penalty for an Emperor to have to pay for hisgreatness, but, unhappily, it was a condition of things that hadbeen familiar, more or less, to Russian rulers for a long time.Michael Danevitch was held high in the esteem of the Czar, whor*garded him as one of his strongest safeguards. The famousdetective's restoration to the Treasury of the stolen millionroubles was a thing of the past, and was almost forgotten; butthat exploit had made his reputation, and gave him an absolutelyindependent position as well as power. Since then he haddisplayed remarkable zeal and acumen. He had unearthed numerousdastardly plots, and had sent to the fortress of Peter and Paul,the prison of Schlusselburg, and to Siberia, many desperate men,who believed that the way to freedom and reform was by thedestruction of human life and the shedding of innocent blood.

It was well known throughout Russia at this time that a secretNihilist organization existed of vast proportions, and that oneof the main objects of the association was to bring about thedeath of the Czar. It is difficult to understand how men andwomen, claiming to be intelligent and reasoning beings, couldcome to believe that by slaying their monarch they would redresstheir own wrongs, real or imaginary. Everyone was aware that themoment the breath was out of the body of one Czar, another wouldstep into his place. The cry of 'Le Roi est mort!' wouldbe echoed back by 'Vive le Roi!'

There could be no interregnum for a single hour, unless atremendous social upheaval took place and a republic wasproclaimed. But while that is the easiest thing imaginable inFrance, it never has been possible in Russia; firstly, on accountof the enormous extent of the country; secondly, by reason of thevaried nationalities represented; and thirdly, owing to the wantof anything like hom*ogeneousness among the vast masses of peopleswayed by the Imperial rule. Nevertheless, to kill the Czar wasthe constant aim of thousands and tens of thousands of hissubjects. It thus became necessary for his Imperial Majesty totake the most extreme measures for the preservation of his life.It was like a game of check and counter-check. The Nihilistswatched with a thousand eyes; they plotted and planned with busybrains. But they in turn were watched; and the forces of the lawwere constantly at work against them. The Nihilists, however, hadthe best of it. They played the cleverer game. For in the army,the navy, in the law, the civil service, in all classes and ranksof society, even in the Church itself, they had their spies andagents, and those who were on the side of the Czar found alltheir energies, all their vigilance, taxed to avoid the mineswhich the others were ever ready to spring. Amongst the Czar'smost devoted adherents and trusted followers was ColonelVlassovski, who was in command of the military guard which nightand day did duty at the Winter Palace, where the Emperor was thenresiding.

The Winter Palace of St. Petersburg is the largest residentialpalace in the world, with the exception of Versailles and theVatican. Its length is four hundred and fifty-five feet, and itsbreadth three hundred and fifty. So spacious is its interior thatas many as six thousand persons can be easily accommodated thereat one time. It will be readily understood that to effectuallyguard a place of these stupendous dimensions from a crafty,cunning, and silent enemy, who gave no sign of his presence untilhe had struck his blow, was not an easy task; and the tremendousresponsibility and ceaseless strain on the nerves which wereinseparable from Colonel Vlassovski's position, transformed himin a few months from a comparatively young man to an old andhaggard one. One day in the month of December the Colonel sent anurgent message by special courier to Danevitch, in whom he hadthe utmost confidence. The message was to the effect that hewished to see Danevitch immediately. The detective hurried atonce to the palace, and was immediately ushered into theColonel's private cabinet, where there were numerous telegraphicmachines that placed the chief in communication with all parts ofthe city, and nearly every part of Russia. The Coloneltemporarily dismissed his clerks and attendants when Danevitcharrived, and bolted the door so that they might be alone and freefrom interruption.

'I have sent for you.' he began, 'to make an investigation.Last night one of the guard in the interior of the palace, ayoung soldier named Vladimir, who was on duty near the Czar'sapartments, was surprised by the corporal in the act of makingdrawings and plans of that part of the palace. He was immediatelyarrested, but made the most desperate efforts to destroy hispapers. He was prevented, however, from doing this, and anexamination proved them to be drawings to scale of certainportions of the interior of the palace. Vladimir, before hejoined the army, was in an architect's office. On beingquestioned he grew sullen, and resolutely declined to sayanything.'

'And what inference do you draw from the man's act,Colonel?'

'What inference! Why, can there be any doubt that he is aNihilist spy?'

'Where is he now?'

'In the fortress of Peter and Paul.'

'What will be his punishment?'

'As a soldier on duty he has been guilty of treason—forit has been declared treason for any unauthorized person to makedrawings or tracings of any part of a royal residence—hewill therefore be summarily tried, and, if proved guilty, will beinstantly shot.'

'And you think he will be proved guilty?'

'There is not a doubt about it. He was discovered makingdrawings of the palace without orders. When questioned, hedeclined to give any explanation, and his endeavours to destroythe plans showed that his motives were not innocent ones. Ofcourse we shall try, before he is executed, to get informationfrom him.'

'Which you will fail to do.'

'Why?'

'Because these Nihilists' agents will not betray theircomrades.'

'But he will be tortured into a confession.'

'You may torture him, but he will not confess. The Nihilistsare pitiless. A traitor to their cause not only destroys himself,but all those belonging to him, for the vengeance falls also onhis family and connections, however innocent they may be.Vladimir knows that, and you may depend upon it that, punish himas you will, you will never wring from him a word ofconfession.'

'What's to be done, then?' asked the Colonel, in distress.

'Let the fellow go free. Reinstate him.'

The Colonel stared in blank amazement; then he broke into amocking laugh, as he asked caustically:

'Have you taken leave of your senses, Danevitch, or become afool?'

'Neither.'

'Explain, then. What do you mean?'

'A dead man cannot speak; a live one can. Put Vladimir backinto his place again, and leave the rest to me. He is a key, asit were. With him you may open many doors. Kill him, and thedoors will remain closed against you.'

A new light broke on the Colonel. He looked thoughtful, andfor some moments remained silent; then he remarked:

'But there are a thousand difficulties now in the way ofnetting him free.'

'Under ordinary circ*mstances', yes. But in this case a strokeof the Czar's pen can do it. You are in the Emperor's confidence.Explain to him what is required, and in two hours' time Vladimircan be back in the palace again. Then he will betray himself bysome act, some sign; on the other hand, all the resources ofPeter and Paul will fail to wring from him a word that will be ofuse to us.'

The Colonel saw the force of the argument, and said that hewould lose no time in procuring an interview with the Czar. Thatwas done; result, in the course of the day Vladimir wasreinstated. He had been told that on investigation theauthorities were not disposed to take a serious view of hisoffence. He was a young soldier, and of value to the State, andanother chance would be given to him. So he was severelyreprimanded, and brought back to the palace, much to his ownamazement. He had considered himself doomed, and his restorationto liberty puzzled him; but he was too obtuse to divine the realcause, and he did not dream how every movement of his was beingwatched. Some days later he justified Danevitch's prediction.Being off duty, he went into the city, and, making his way to oneof the quays on the Neva, now-frozen over, he met a young woman,and was seen to hand her a paper.

They did not confer together long, and when they separated,the young woman was followed to her home by Danevitch. Had hebeen a mere subordinate of the chief of police, he would havebeen compelled to have reported this incident, with the resultthat a domiciliary visit would have been paid to the house, andas a natural corollary of that action, assuming that, as wassuspected, she was in conspiracy with others, her co-conspiratorswould be warned, and justice might be defeated. Danevitch wasaware of all this, and, like a well-trained sleuth-hound, he didnot attempt to strike his quarry until he was absolutely sure ofit. He knew that at the most Vladimir could be but a humbleinstrument; behind him and influencing him were more powerfulfoes to the State. These were the people he wanted to lay hishands upon. It was no use casting his net for the little fishonly; it was the big ones he fished for. After witnessing themeeting between Vladimir and the young woman, Danevitch hadanother interview with Colonel Vlassovski, during which heinformed him that Vladimir was dangerous, and should be closelywatched, though care was to be taken not to allow him to suspectthat he was being watched. A few days later Danevitch again wentto the Colonel, and said:

'I believe I am in the way of bringing to light a greatconspiracy, and I am going to leave Russia for a time.'

'But how in the world can you bring the conspiracy to light ifyou are out of Russia?' asked the Colonel in alarm. 'Yourpresence is required here if there is danger.'

'No. I can do better elsewhere. There is danger, but it doesnot threaten immediately. The head of the movement is not inRussia. If the head is destroyed, the tail is sure to perish. Iam going to seek the head. The tail, which is here, can betrampled on afterwards.'

'Where is the head, do you think?'

'I don't exactly know. In Berlin, perhaps; in Geneva, Paris,London.'

'Ah, Geneva and London!' exclaimed the Colonel angrily. 'Thosetwo places are responsible for much. They offer refuge to thevilest of wretches so long as they claim to be merely politicaloffenders. Like charity, that term covers a multitude of sins,and under its protecting influence some of the most desperate andbloodthirsty scoundrels who ever walked the earth have foundsanctuary.'

'True,' answered Danevitch; 'but we cannot help that. 'Thereare ways and means, however, of dragging rascals of that kindfrom their sanctuary. I am going to see what can be done.'

'You will keen in touch with me,' the Colonel remarked.

'Certainly I will. In the meantime, draw a closer cordon roundthe palace, and let no one sleep. You must not forget, Colonel,that the plots we are called upon to checkmate are hatched not inRussia, but in some of the European capitals. The poor fools whoexecute the work here are mere tools. We want to lay hands on theprincipals, the people who from a safe retreat supply the money.Stop the money, and the tools will cease to work.'

All that Danevitch urged was undeniable. The Colonel knew it.Those in power knew it. The Czar himself knew it. But hithertothe great difficulty had been to secure the principals. Theprisons were full of the hirelings; hundreds and hundreds of themdragged out their miserable lives in Siberia; but still thedanger was not lessened, for as long as ever money wasforthcoming men and women could always be found ready and willingto pit their liberties and lives against the forces of theGovernment.

It cannot be denied that amongst them were some, many perhaps,who were not mere hirelings, but were prompted by mistakennotions of patriotism; they were generally young people led awayby false sentiments and misplaced enthusiasm. It had been found,too, that young women, for the sake of men they loved, werewilling to risk all they held sacred on earth at the bidding oftheir lovers. They were the most pliant, the most willing tools;but they were also the weak links in the chain. They acted withless caution than men. They went to work blindly, and with astupid recklessness which was bound sooner or later to betraythem. Danevitch had a favourite theory, or saying, to the effectthat, given a plot with a woman in it, all you had to do was tofind out the woman, and you would discover the plot. In this casehe had found out the woman. The one who met Vladimir on the quayby the Neva was a book-keeper in a general store. She sharedapartments with another young woman in a poor part of the town.At night, when her duties for the day were over, she was in thehabit of attending secret meetings, mostly of women, with asprinkling of men amongst them. One of these women was a MadamePetrarna. She was an organizer and a leader. Vladimir'ssweetheart was in high favour with her. Petrarna was the wife ofa man who was in exile as 'a danger to the State.' He had beenarrested as a suspicious personage, and though nothing wasactually proved against him, he was sent to Siberia.

Having learnt so much about Vladimir's sweetheart, Danevitchdevoted his attention to Petrarna. He had made the ways ofNihilists a study, and though they had their spies everywhere, hewas often able to outwit them, and he succeeded in getting aroundhim a little band of devoted agents who were ready to go anywhereand do anything at his bidding. Amongst these agents was a cleverlittle woman, and she succeeded one night in gaining admission toa meeting over which Petrarna was presiding. The president spokeof the arrest and release of Vladimir, and how he had been able,after all, to hand to his sweetheart and their colleague certaindrawings of the palace, which would be invaluable to them intheir work.

This and many other things the agent learnt, and conveyed theintelligence to her employer Danevitch, whereby he was induced togo abroad to search for the head, as he had told ColonelVlassovsky.

Weeks passed, and Danevitch was in Geneva. The weather wasbitter. The winter had set in very early, and so, far had beenunusually severe. At this period there were something like fivethousand Russians living in Geneva and its environs. The majorityof these Russians were Nihilists. One night, although a blackbise was blowing, filling the air with spiculae of ice,and freezing to the marrow all those who ventured into thestreets, various individuals—singly, in twos andthrees—wended their way to an old building in a lonelyside-street not far from the Gare. It was a short street, anddevoted principally to warehouses, which were closed at night;consequently it was badly lighted, and after business hourspractically deserted. The entrance to one of these buildings wasby an arched gateway, closed with massive wooden gates, in oneside of which was a small door to allow the workpeople to pass inand out when the gates were closed. On the night in question,this little door opened and shut many times; each time it opened,somebody entered after having been asked for a sign, a counter-sign, and a password. Without these none could enter. At lengththere were nearly fifty persons present. Then the gate was barredand guarded.

In a long back upper room, the windows of which were soscreened that not a ray of light could escape, a meeting washeld. It was a Nihilist meeting, and the chief thing discussedwas the destruction of the Czar of Russia. Reports were also readfrom many 'Centres,' detailing the progress that was made in whatwas called 'The Revolutionary Movement.' One man brought with hima great quantity of seditious literature in Russian. It had beenprinted by a secret press in the town. The meeting was presidedover by a lady; that lady was Mrs. Sherard Wilson. Shedistributed a considerable amount of money among those present,and talked the most violent of language. She was a fluent andeloquent speaker, and swayed the meeting as reeds are swayed bythe wind.

A long discussion followed, and many things were settled.Amongst others, the date of the 'Czar's execution' was fixed; andMrs. Sherard announced that she would leave for St. Petersburg ina very few days to hasten the 'good cause.'

The meeting was orderly, business-like, and quiet. Everyperson present—man and woman—seemed terribly inearnest, and there was a grim severity in their tone and speechwhich argued unrelenting bitterness and hatred against the rulerof Russia and many prominent members of his council, all of whomwere marked for swift and sudden death. It was midnight when themeeting broke up. Silently the people came, silently theydeparted'; and when the last one had gone, and the door in thegate had been locked, a death-like stillness reigned in thedeserted warehouse. Outside, the black bise roared,bringing from the lake and the surrounding hills fierce storms ofhail.

A little later the door of the gate opened noiselessly, and aman, having glanced carefully up and down to see that no one wasin sight, passed out, locked the door after him, and disappearedin the darkness of the night.

That man was Michael Danevitch. He had heard all that hadpassed at the meeting, for he had been concealed behind a pile ofpacking-cases, and his note-book was filled with the names, sofar as he could gather them, of all those who had taken part inthe proceedings.

Three days after the meeting had been held, Mrs. SherardWilson took her departure for Berlin, where she rested for a dayand a night, and had interviews with several influential people,and at a certain bank and moneychanger's in Berlin she convertedan English cheque for a large amount into Russian money. She wasknown to the money-changer; he had cashed similar cheques before.Having completed her business, she pursued her way to Russia. Atthe frontier her luggage and passport were examined. There wasnothing liable to duty in the former; the latter was all in orderand duly vised. The examiners at the frontier, however, failed todiscover in one of her trunks a very artfully and cleverlycontrived false bottom, where lay concealed not only a mass ofinflammatory literature, but documents of the most damagingdescription. So she passed on her journey, distributing largessefreely, and regarded by the officials as a lady of distinction,travelling no doubt on important business, for no one travelledfor pleasure in the winter weather. Mrs. Wilson spoke French,German, Russian, and many dialects, so that she had no difficultywith regard to tongues. In the same train with her travelled aman, who was ostensibly a fur merchant, in reality hershadower—Danevitch the detective.

In due course they reached St. Petersburg, and the lady wasdriven to one of the principal hotels, where she engaged a suiteof rooms; and when three or four days had elapsed, during whichshe was very active and went about much, she attended a secretmeeting, held in the house of one Alexeyeff, who was a booksellerin a small why of business. In that house over sixty personsassembled, including the indefatigable Mrs. Sherard Wilson. Whenthe last person had entered, there gradually closed around theplace a cordon of heavily-armed policemen. They, again, werereinforced by a body of soldiers with loaded guns and fixedbayonets. At a given signal, when all was ready, the door of thehouse was burst in and the meeting, which had just got tobusiness, was broken up in wild confusion.

The people saw that they had been betrayed and were trapped.For a moment a panic seized them. Some made a bid for liberty,and rushed off, bid could not get far; the cordon was too strongto be broken through. Others, with a wild despair, prepared tosell their lives and liberties dearly. But, as is well known,Continental police, and particularly the Russian police, stand onno ceremony when resistance to their authority is offered. Themaudlin sentiment which we in England so often display, even whenthe most desperate ruffians are concerned, is quite unknownabroad. Resistance to the law generally means injury, and oftendeath, to the resister.

On the occasion in question, the police and the soldiers wereall heavily armed, for they were aware that the work they werecalled upon to perform could not be undertaken with kid gloveson; the glittering swords and bayonets which menaced the trappedpeople had an effect, and what threatened to be a scene ofbloodshed and death ended in a despairing surrender to the forcesthat were irresistible. From the moment that the police broke inupon the meeting Mrs. Sherard Wilson felt that hope had gone, andshe made no attempt either to save her own liberty or arouse herfollowers to action.

Under a very strong escort the misguided people were conveyedto prison, and very soon it was made evident that Danevitch hadbrought to light one of the most desperate and giganticconspiracies of modern times. Not only had plans been drawn upand arrangements made for killing the Czar, but many noblemen andhigh officials were to be killed. The conspirators were chosenfrom all ranks of society, and they had followers in the army andthe navy, as well as in the police. That they would havesucceeded in their nefarious designs there is little doubt, hadit not been for the vigilance and cleverness of Danevitch. Hefound out that Count Obolensk, who resided in London, wassupplying large sums of money to aid the work of theconspiracy.

The detective therefore decided upon the bold step of takingservice in the Count's household for a time. This he succeeded indoing, and on the night of the meeting recorded in the early partof this story, which was held at the Count's house, he hidhimself behind the writing-desk and heard all that took place. Inorder to get away from the house without raising suspicion, helet the tray of china fall on the stairs as Miss Obolensk wasdescending. He followed Mrs. Sherard Wilson to Geneva, and waspresent at that other meeting, when he gained most importantinformation, and subsequently, all unknown to her, accompaniedthe lady to Russia.

Investigation brought to light the fact that Mrs. Wilson wasthe wife of a Russian of high social position, but he had beensent to Siberia for life as a political offender. From thatmoment his wife became the sworn enemy of the Government and theCzar. She had previously been acquainted with Count Obolensk, andwas able to exert great influence over him, and, as he was verywealthy, he proved a valuable ally. The plot failed, however, atthe eleventh hour, thanks to Danevitch. How narrow had been theescape of the Emperor from a violent death was revealed at thetrial of the prisoners, when it was proved that a considerablenumber of the officials of the palace, as well as soldiers andservants, had been corrupted, and on a given date a man was to beadmitted to the palace at night, and he was to throw a bomb intothe Czar's bedroom.

Simultaneously an attempt was to be made on the lives ofseveral influential people residing outside of the palace.Desperate and terrible as all this seems, there is no doubt itwould have been attempted, for the men and women who were mixedup in the plot were reckless of their lives, and terribly inearnest.

No mercy was shown to the prisoners, and the majority of themwere sent to some of the most inhospitable regions of NorthernSiberia, including Mrs. Sherard Wilson. To her it must have beeninfinitely worse than death, and it may be doubted if she eversurvived to reach her destination.

VII. — THE CROWN JEWELS

MOSCOW—or, as the natives call it,Moskvá—might almost be described as a city within acity; that is to say, there is the Kremlin, and a town outside ofthat again. The word Kremlin is derived from the Slavonic wordKrim, which signifies a fort. It is built on a hill, andis surrounded by a high turreted wall from twelve to sixteen feetthick. This wall varies from thirty to sixty feet high, and isfurnished with battlements, embrasures, and gates. Within theKremlin are most of the Government offices: the Treasury; therenowned Cathedral of St. Michael, where the monarchs of Russiawere formerly interred; and the Cathedral of the Assumption ofthe Virgin Mary, long-used as a place of coronation of theEmperors.

In the Treasury are preserved the State jewels, which, in theaggregate, are probably of greater value than any other Statejewels in the civilized world. There are something like twentycrowns of such a size, splendour, and intrinsic value that eachin itself is a fortune. Tradition says that one of these crownswas given by the Greek Emperor Comnenus to the great Vladimir.Some are covered with the most magnificent diamonds; others withturquoises of immense size; others, again, with rubies andpearls; the groundwork of all is solid gold, and the workmanshipexquisite. Then there are sceptres of massive gold, powdered withpriceless gems. There are diamond tiaras, diamond cinctures,services of gold and jewelled plate, jewelled swords. Thesecostly treasures are preserved in a large well-lighted room ofnoble proportions, and to this room the public are freelyadmitted. It need scarcely be said that the State jewel-room ofthe Treasury is a source of great attraction to foreigners, andno one visiting Moscow for the first time would think of leavingthe city without having paid a visit to the Treasury jewel-room.

One morning, on opening the Museum for the day, there wastremendous consternation amongst the officials and attendants,when one of the guardians of the treasure-house made thediscovery that no less than three crowns, two sceptres, a diamondbelt and a diamond tiara were missing. The circ*mstance was atonce reported to the keeper of the jewels—General Kuntzler.The office was generally held by a retired military officer, andwas much sought after, as it was a life appointment and thesalary was good. The keeper had many subordinates under him, andwhile they were responsible to him, he himself was held entirelyresponsible by the Government for the safeguarding of the jewels.General Kuntzler had occupied the position for about two years,after long and important military service. When he heard of therobbery, he was so affected that his mind gave way, and beforethe day was out he shot himself.

Investigation soon made it evident that a crime ofunparalleled audacity had been committed under the very noses ofthe Government officials, and property intrinsically valued atmany thousands of pounds had disappeared. As the affair was avery serious one for all concerned, no time was lost in summoningMichael Danevitch and enlisting his services. As can readily beunderstood, quite apart from the monetary value of the lostbaubles, the associations surrounding them made it highlydesirable that every effort should be put forth to recover them;and it was impressed upon Danevitch how imperatively necessary itwas to take the most active measures to get on the track of thethieves immediately, because, as everyone knew, the gold would bemelted down as soon as possible, and the precious relics be thusdestroyed. Amongst the crowns carried off was the one worn by thelast King of Poland. It was a magnificent bauble, and was sothickly encrusted with gems that in round figures it was worth inEnglish money something like fifty thousand pounds. It will beseen, therefore, that the loss in mere value to the State wasenormous. It was, of course, as Danevitch saw clearly enough, noordinary robbery. It must have been planned deliberately, andcarried out with great ingenuity. Nor was it less obvious thatmore than one person had been concerned in the daring crime.

There was a prevailing impression at first that GeneralKuntzler must have had a share in the robbery, but Danevitch didnot take that view. The unfortunate General had an untarnishedrecord, and though his suicide was calculated to arousesuspicion, it was established by Danevitch that the poorman—fully realizing the great responsibility that rested onhis shoulders—was unable to face the blame that wouldattach to him. It would be said that he had not exercisedsufficient care, and had been careless of the safety of thepriceless treasures committed to his charge. This was more thanhe could bear, and he ended the whole business as far as he wasconcerned by laying violent hands upon himself.

'I saw from the first,' Danevitch writes, 'that the guiltyparties must be sought for among the ranks of those who makerobbery a fine art, if one may be allowed to so express himself.Mere commonplace, vulgar minds would have been incapable ofconceiving, let alone of carrying out, so daring a deed as thatof robbing the State of its priceless historical baubles. It wasno less self-evident to me that the affair must have been verycarefully planned, and arrangements made for conveying thearticles out of the country immediately, or of effectuallydestroying then-identity. In their original condition they wouldpractically be worth nothing to the illegal possessors, inasmuchas no man dare offer them for sale; but by taking out the gemsand melting the gold the materials could thus be converted intocash. I ascertained that when the Museum was closed in theevening previous to the robbery being discovered, everything wassafe.'

It appeared that it was the duty of the chief subordinate, oneMaximoff, to go round the hall the last thing, after it had beenclosed to the public for the day, and see that everything wassafe. He then reported to General Kuntzler. This had been donewith great regularity. It so happened, however, that the daypreceding the discovery that the jewels had been stolen was anofficial holiday. At stated periods in Russia there is anofficial holiday, when all public Government departments areclosed. This holiday had favoured the work of the thieves, andsome time during the forty hours that elapsed between the closingof the hall in the evening before the holiday, and the discoveryof the robbery on the morning after the holiday, the jewels hadbeen carried off.

The holiday was on a Wednesday; on Tuesday evening Maximoffmade his round of inspection as usual, and duly presented hisofficial report to his chief, General Kuntzler. According to thatreport, everything was safe; the place was carefully locked up,and all the keys deposited in the custody of the General, whokept them in an iron safe in his office. It was prettyconclusively proved that those keys never left the safe from thetime they were deposited there on Tuesday night until Maximoffwent for them on Thursday morning. During the whole of WednesdayMaximoff and the attendants were away. Maximoff was a marriedman, with three children, and he had taken his family into thecountry. Kuntzler remained, and there was the usual militaryguard at the Treasury. The guard consisted of six sentinels, whodid duty night and day, being relieved every four hours.

'The whole affair was very complicated,' proceeds Danevitch,'and I found myself confronted with a problem of no ordinarydifficulty. I was satisfied, however, that General Kuntzler wasentirely innocent of any complicity in the affair; and, so far asI could determine then, there was not the slightest ground forsuspecting Maximoff. There were twelve other subordinates. Theywere charged with the duty of dusting the various glass cases inwhich the jewels were deposited, and of keeping the people inorder on public days, and I set to work in my own way toendeavour to find out what likelihood there was of any of thesem*n being confederates. It seemed to me that one or more of themhad been corrupted, and proved false to his charge. Without anenemy in the camp it was difficult to understand how the thieveshad effected an entrance.'

The Treasury was a large white stone building, with an innercourtyard, around which were grouped numerous Government offices.The entrance to this yard was by a noble archway, closed by amassive and ornamental iron gate. In this gateway a sentry wasconstantly posted. The Museum was situated in about the centre ofthe left wing of the main block of buildings. The entrance wasfrom the courtyard, and the hall, being in an upper story, wasreached by a flight of marble steps. To gain admission to thehall, the public were necessarily compelled to pass under thearchway, and so into the courtyard. Of course there were otherways of reaching the hall of jewels, but they were only used bythe employers and officials. General Kuntzler, his lieutenant,Maximoff, and four of the subordinates, resided on the premises.They had rooms in various parts of the building.

A careful study of the building, its approaches and its exits,led Danevitch to the conclusion that the thief or thieves musthave reached the hall from one of the numerous Government officeson the ground-floor of the block, or from the direction ofKuntzler's apartments, and he set to work to try and determinethat point. He found that one of the offices referred to was usedas a depository for documents relating to Treasury business, andbeneath it, in the basem*nt, was an arched cellar, also used forstoring documents. This cellar was one of many others, allconnected with a concreted subway, which in turn was connectedwith the upper stories by a narrow staircase, considered strictlyprivate, and used, or supposed to be used, by the employees only.The office was officially known as Bureau 7. Exit from it couldbe had by a door, which opened into a cul-de-sac, and wasnot a public thoroughfare. It was, in fact, a narrow alley,formed by the Treasury buildings and a church.

Danevitch was not slow to perceive that Bureau T and thecul-de-sac offered the best, if not the only, means ofegress to anyone who, being on the premises illegally, wished toescape without being seen. It was true that one of the sentriesalways on duty patrolled the cul-de-sac at intervals; butthat, to the mind of Danevitch, was not an insuperable obstacleto the escape of anyone from the building. Of course, up to thispoint it was all conjecture, all theory; but the astute detectivebrought all his faculties to bear to prove that his theory was areasonable one.

He ascertained that the door into the cul-de-sac wasvery rarely used indeed, and had not been opened for a long time,as the office itself was only a storeroom for documents, and daysoften passed without anyone going into it. Critical examination,however, revealed to Danevitch that the outer door had been veryrecently opened. This was determined by many minute signs, whichrevealed themselves to the quick and practised eyes of thedetective. But something more was forthcoming to confirm him inhis theory. On the floor of Bureau T he found two or threediamonds, and in the passage of the cul-de-sac he pickedup some more. Here, then, at once was fairly positive proof thatthe thief or thieves had made then-exit that way. Owing to roughhandling, or to the jarring together of the stolen things, someof the precious stones had become detached, and by somecarelessness or other a number of them had fallen unperceived tothe ground; these as surely pointed the way taken iv the robbersas the lion in the desert betrays his track by the spoor. Thisimportant discovery Danevitch kept to himself. He was fond oflikening his profession to a game at whist, and he used to saythat the cautious and skilful player should never allow hisopponent to know what cards he holds.

Having determined so much, his next step was to discover, ifpossible, the guilty persons. It was tolerably certain that,whoever they were, they must have been well acquainted with thepremises. Of course it went without saving that no one could haveundertaken and carried out such an extraordinary robber withoutfirst of all making a very careful study of every detail, as wellas of every means of reaching the booty, and of conveying it awaywhen secured. The fact of the robbery having been committed onthe Wednesday, which was a Government holiday, showed that it hadbeen well planned, and it was equally evident that somebodyconcerned in it was intimately acquainted with the premises andall their ramifications. The importance of the discovery of theway by which the criminals had effected their escape could not beoverrated, and yet it was of still greater importance that theway by which they entered should be determined. To do that,however, was not an easy matter. The probability—a strongprobability—was that those concerned had lain perduin the building from the closing-time on Tuesday night until thebusiness was completed, which must have been during the hours ofdarkness from Tuesday night to Wednesday morning, or Wednesdaynight and Thursday morning. In the latter case, however, theenterprising 'exploiters' must have remained on the premises thewhole of Wednesday, and that was hardly likely. They certainlycould not have entered on Wednesday, because as it was a non-business day a stranger or strangers seeking admission would havebeen challenged by the sentries, and not allowed to pass withouta special permit. At night a password was always sent round tothe people residing in the building, and if they went out theycould not gain entrance again without giving the password. Theseprecautions were, in an ordinary way, no doubt, effective enough;but the fact that on this occasion they had proved of no availpointed to one thing certain, which was that the intruders hadgained admission on the Tuesday with the general public, but didnot leave when the Museum was closed for the night, and toanother thing, not so certain, but probable, that they had beenassisted by somebody living on the premises.

Altogether something like sixty persons had lodgings in theTreasury buildings, but only fourteen of these persons, includingKuntzler himself, were attached to the Museum portion. TheGeneral's apartments were just above the hall in which the Crownjewels were kept. He had a suite of six rooms, including akitchen and a servant's sleeping-place. He was a widower, but hissister lived with him as his housekeeper. She was a widow; hername was Anna Ivanovna.[*] The General also had an adopteddaughter, a pretty girl, about twenty years of age: she wascalled Lydia.

[* Note. The book has "Ivanorna."]

It appeared she was the natural child of one of the General'scomrades, who had been killed during an émeute in Siberia,where he was stationed on duty. On the death of his friend, andbeing childless himself, Kuntzler took the girl, then between sixand seven years of age, and brought her up. For obvious reasons,of course, Danevitch made a study of the General's household, andso learned the foregoing particulars.

As may be imagined, the General's death was a terrible blow tohis family, and Lydia suffered such anguish that she fell veryill. Necessarily it became the duty of Danevitch to endeavour toascertain by every means in his power if Kuntzler's suicide hadresulted from any guilty knowledge of the robbery. But not ascrap of evidence was forthcoming to justify suspicion, thoughthe outside public suspected him. That, perhaps, was onlynatural. As a matter of fact, however, he bore a very highreputation. He had held many important positions of trust, andhad been elected to the post of Crown Jewel Keeper, on the deathof his predecessor, on account of the confidence reposed in himby the Government, and during the time he had held the office hehad given the utmost satisfaction. An examination of hisbooks—he had to keep an account of all the expenses inconnection with his department—his papers and privateletters, did not bring to light a single item that was calculatedto arouse suspicion, and not a soul in the Government servicebreathed a word against him, while he was highly respected andesteemed by a very large circle of friends.

It was admitted on all sides that General Kuntzler was a veryconscientious and sensitive man. The knowledge of the robberycame upon him with a suddenness that overwhelmed him, and, halfstunned by the shock, his mind gave way, and he adopted the weakman's method to relieve himself of a terrible responsibility.That was the worst that anyone who knew him ventured to say; hewas accorded a public and a military funeral, and was carried tohis last resting-place amidst the genuine sorrow of great numbersof people.

'I confess that at this stage of the proceedings,' writesDanevitch in his notes of the case, 'I did not feel very sanguineof success in the task imposed upon me; and when ColonelAndreyeff, Chief of the Moscow Police, sent for me, and asked myviews, I frankly told him what I thought, keeping back, however,for the time being, the discovery I had made, that the culpritshad departed from the building by Bureau 7, and had scatteredsome diamonds on the way. The Colonel became very grave when helearnt my opinion, and paid me the compliment of saying thatgreat hopes had been placed on me, that the reputation of hisdepartment was at stake, and if the jewels were not recovered,and the culprits brought to justice, it might cost him hisposition. I pointed out that I was quite incapable of performingmiracles; that while I could modestly claim to have been moresuccessful in my career than any other man following the samecalling, it was not within my power to see through stone walls,or divine the innermost secrets of men's hearts.

'"But you are capable of reading signs which other men have noeyes for," exclaimed the Colonel.

'"Possibly," I answered, as I bowed my thanks for the goodopinion he held of me; "but in this instance I see no sign."

'"But you are searching for one?" said the Colonelanxiously.

'"Oh, certainly I am," I responded.

'The anxious expression faded from the Colonel's face, and hesmiled as, fixing his keen gray eyes on me, he remarked:

'"As long as you are still searching for a sign, Danevitch,there is hope. There must be a sign somewhere, and unless youhave grown blind and mentally dull, it will not escape you forlong."

'This was very flattering to my amour propre, and Iadmit that it had a tendency to stimulate me to renewed exertion,if stimulus was really needed. But, as a matter of fact, I wasnot just then very hopeful. Nevertheless, as I took my leave, Isaid that, if the problem was solvable by mortal man, I wouldsolve it. This was pledging myself to a good deal; but I was vainenough to think that, if I failed by methods which I had made alifelong study, to say nothing of a natural gift for my work, noone else was likely to succeed, except by some accident whichwould give him the advantage.'

Like most men of exceptional ability, Danevitch was consciousof his strength, but he rarely allowed this self-consciousness toassert itself, and when he did he was justified. His methods werecertainly his own, and he never liked to own defeat. That meantthat where he failed it was hardly likely anyone else would havesucceeded. Not only had he a tongue cunning to question, an eyequick to observe, but, as I have said elsewhere, a sort of eighthsense, which enabled him to discern what other men could notdiscern.

After that interview with Colonel Andreyeff, he fell topondering on the case, and bringing all the logic he was capableof to bear. He saw no reason whatever to change his firstopinion, that there had been an enemy in the camp. By that ismeant that the robbery could never have been effected unless withthe aid of someone connected with the place, and knowing it well.Following his course of reasoning, he came to the decision thatthe stolen property was still within the Kremlin. His reason forthis was, as he states:

'The thieves could not have passed out during the night, asthey would have been questioned by the guards at the gates. Norcould they have conveyed out such a bulky packet on Wednesday, asthey would have been called upon for a permit. On the other hand,if the property had been divided up into small parcels, the riskwould have been great, and suspicion aroused. But assuming thatthe thieves had been stupid enough to carry off the things inbulk, they must have known that they were not likely to get farbefore attracting attention, while any attempt to dispose of thearticles as they were would have been fatal. To have been blindto these tremendous risks was to argue a denseness on the part ofthe culprits hardly conceivable of men who had been clever enoughto abstract from a sentry-guarded Government building property ofsuch enormous value. They would know well enough that melted goldand loose gems could always find a market; but, having regard tothe hue and cry, that market was hardly likely to be sought forin any part of Russia. Therefore, when reduced to anunrecognisable state, and when vigilance had been relaxed, thegold and the jewels would be carried abroad to some of thecentres of Europe, where the infamous receiver flourishes andwaxes fat on the sins of his fellow-men.

'In accordance with my custom in such cases,' continuesDanevitch in his notes, 'I lost not a moment when I took up thecase in telegraphing to every outlet from Russia, including thefrontier posts. I knew, therefore, that at every frontier stationand every outlet luggage would be subjected to very criticalexamination, and the thieves would experience great difficultyindeed in getting clear. But there was another aspect of the casethat could not be overlooked, and it caused me considerableanxiety; it was this—the gems could be carried away a fewat a time. A woman, for instance, could conceal about her personsmall packets of them, and excite no suspicion. To examineeveryone personally at the frontiers was next to impossible.There was another side, however, to this view, and it afforded mesome consolation. To get the gems out of the country in the waysuggested would necessitate a good many journeys on the part ofthe culprits, and one person making the same journey severaltimes would excite suspicion. If several people were employed inthe work, they would be certain to get at loggerheads sooner orlater, and the whole business would be exposed. I always made ita sort of axiom that 'when thieves fall out honest men come bytheir due,' and experience had taught me that thieves invariablyfall out when it comes to a division of plunder. Of course, I wasperfectly alive to the fact that it would not do to rely uponthat; something more was wanted: it was of the highest importanceto prevent the stolen property being carried far away, and all myenergies were concentrated to that end.

'I have already given my reasons for thinking that at thisstage the stolen jewels had not been removed from the Kremlin.Although there are no regular streets, as understood, in theKremlin, there are numerous shops and private residences, thelatter being inhabited for the most part by the officials andother employees of the numerous Government establishments. Theresult is that within the Kremlin itself there is a very largepopulation.'

It will be seen from these particulars that the whole affairbristled with difficulties, and, given that the thieves weresharp, shrewd, and cautious, they might succeed in defeatingDanevitch's efforts. One of the first things he did was torequest that every sentry at the Kremlin gates should be extravigilant, and subject passers to and fro to more than ordinaryobservation, while if they had reason to suspect any particularperson, that person should be instantly arrested. The precautionswhich were thus taken reduced the matter to a game of chance. Ifthe thieves betrayed themselves by an incautious or careless actthey would lose. On the other hand, if they were skilful andvigilant the detective would be defeated; and as the stakes werevery large, and to lose meant death to them (that being thepenalty in Russia for such a crime), it was presumable that theywould not easily sacrifice themselves. At this stage Danevitchhimself confessed that he would not have ventured to give anopinion as to which of the two sides would win.

The more Danevitch studied the subject, the more he becameconvinced that the thieves must have been in league with someoneconnected with the Treasury Department. In face of the fact thatfalse keys had been used, the theory of collusion could not beignored; the difficulty was to determine who was the most likelyperson to have proved traitor to his trust. Maximoff bore a highcharacter; General Kuntzler had reposed full confidence in him.The subordinates were also men of good repute. That, however, wasnot a guarantee that they were proof against temptation.Nevertheless, Danevitch could not get hold of anything that wascalculated to arouse his suspicion against any particularindividual. If there was a guilty man amongst them, he would, ofcourse, be particularly careful not to commit any act, or utterany word, calculated to betray him, knowing as he did thatDanevitch was on the alert.

When several days had passed, and General Kuntzler had beenconsigned to his tomb, Danevitch had an interview with hissister, Anna Ivanovna. She was in a state of great mentalexcitement and nervous prostration; and Lydia, the General'sadopted daughter, was also very ill. Anna was a somewhatremarkable woman. She was a tall, big-boned, determined-lookingindividual, with a soured expression of face and restless grayeyes. Her maimer of speaking, her expression of face, and acertain cynicism, which made itself apparent in her talk, gaveone the notion that she was a disappointed woman.

'This is a sad business,' began Danevitch, after somepreliminary remarks.

'Very sad,' she answered. 'It has cost my brother hislife.'

'He evidently felt it very keenly,' said Danevitch.

'A man must feel a thing keenly to commit suicide, unless heis a weak-brained fool, incapable of any endurance,' she repliedwith a warmth that amounted almost to fierceness. After a pause,she added: 'My brother was far from being a fool. He was a strongman—a clever man.'

'So I understand. Did he make any observation to you before hecommitted the rash act?'

'No.'

'Yes, he did, Anna,' cried out Lydia from the couch on whichshe was lying, wrapped in rugs.

Anna turned upon her angrily, and exclaimed:

'How do you know? Hold your tongue. He made no observation, Isay.'

Lydia was evidently annoyed at being spoken to in such amaimer, and she replied with spirit, as she raised herself on herelbow:

'Don't snap at me like that, Anna. I know perfectly well. Mypoor father said over and over again that he had been betrayed,that there had been a traitor in the house. It was that thatdistracted him. He couldn't bear the thought of it.'

'And who do you suppose the traitor was?' Anna asked angrily.'You are always thinking wrong of people.'

Lydia did not take any notice of this. She lay still, andseemed to be suffering keen mental anguish.

'Have you any opinion how the robbery was committed?' askedDanevitch of Anna.

'No.'

'But surely you must have some idea.' 'No, I haven't.'

'Do you think it possible, now, that such a crime could havebeen committed without a confederate in the camp?'

'What do you mean?' demanded the woman sternly, as though sheresented the bare suspicion which the question implied.

'My meaning is plain, surely. An utter stranger to the placecould not have done this deed.'

'I suppose he couldn't. But whoever did it couldn't have beenan utter stranger.'

'Do I understand from that that you suggest the culprit orculprits are people who were employed here?'

'No, I don't suggest that. But it stands to reason that anyoneundertaking a deed of this kind would be careful to make himselfacquainted with the building.'

'And how do you think he did that..'

'You know as well as I do that the place is open to thepublic. What is there to prevent anyone studying the place?

'Nothing whatever, so far as the public part of it goes. But,unless with the aid of a confederate, I do not quite see howanyone could become acquainted with those parts where the publicare not admitted.'

'Well, Mr. Danevitch,' said Anna, with a decisiveness whichwas meant to clinch the argument, 'I am not an expert like you,nor do I know anything at all about the matter, therefore don'tbother me with any more questions. I am troubled enough, and haveenough on my mind without this affair. I want to forget it.'

'I make every allowance for you,' replied Danevitch. 'I quiteunderstand that your feelings are lacerated, but I thought it waswithin the bounds of possibility that you might be able to throwsome light on the matter. However, I will not disturb youfurther, but take my leave.'

Anna showed him out with a sigh of relief, and she shut thedoor with a bang that indicated too plainly how glad she was toget rid of him. At this stage, Danevitch writes, he felt in aquandary. There were certain signs that suggested probabilities,but it was not easy to determine just then whether or not thesigns were anything more than shadows, by which he might bemisled. Speculation and theory were all he had to guide him, andhe was only too well aware that the most astute of reasoners isapt to be misled. What necessarily concerned him was the dangerof being led out of the true track by a false sign. He was notindifferent, of course, to the fact that he had made someprogress—that is to say, he had determined prettyconclusively how the thieves had left the Treasury buildings whenonce they had secured their booty. But what was of still greaterimportance was to discover how they got in. Could he solve thatpart of the problem, he felt sure it would give him manypoints.

It was remarkable about Danevitch that, while he was oftenmistrustful about his own instincts, he seldom erred. He had madehuman nature so close a study that the person who, as the sayingis, could have thrown dust in his eyes would have had to havebeen preternaturally clever. He maintained, and proved it overand over again, that the face was so certain an index to what waspassing in the mind that every thought of the brain wascommunicated instantly to the features, which indicated it asunmistakably as a delicately-balanced needle notes the slightestcurrent of electricity. Of course, it was necessary to understandthese face-signs. That in itself is a science. Indeed, the powerto understand it is a gift, and he who fully possesses it is whatis termed to-day 'a thought-reader.' Danevitch did not callhimself that, but he possessed the power in a marked degree,nevertheless; and no one could be indifferent to theextraordinary strength and power of his eyes. When he looked atyou, you felt somehow as if he was looking right into your rain.Mr. Gladstone is said to have that peculiar eye, and it canreadily be understood that anyone with guilty knowledge having tomeet the piercing gaze of such an eye is almost sure to betrayhimself by face-signs, which to the expert are full of meaning.Danevitch had brought this study to such perfection that itproved invaluable to him, and often afforded him a clue whichotherwise he would never have got. Another strong trait in hischaracter was the persistency with which he stuck to an idea whenonce he had thought it out. That, again, was largely responsiblefor the success that attended his efforts in the art of solvingcriminal problems. Of course, his ideas were generally very soundones, and the result of much cogitation. He never jumped to hastyconclusions.

The foregoing little disquisition is not out of place in viewof what follows, and will certainly add to the reader'sinterest.

About three weeks after that interview between Danevitch andAnna Ivanovna, three men were seated in a restaurant situated inwhat is known as the Zemlyanoy Gorod[*], which, beinginterpreted, means 'Earthen Town,' and it is so called because atone time it was surrounded by an earthen rampart.

[* Note: The book has "Zemlidnoi-gorod."]

This part of Moscow contains a number of drinking-places,spirit-stores, shops, cafés and restaurants. The one in which thethree men were seated was a very typical Russian fifth-ratehouse. The ceiling was black with smoke. Flimsy and frowzycurtains hung at the windows; the floor was sanded; long, rough,wooden tables, forms, and common chairs constituted thefurniture. At one end of the room was a small counter, coveredwith lead, on which stood sundry bottles, glasses, and plates ofcaviare and sandwiches; at the other end was the indispensablestove—a huge affair with a massive convoluted iron flue,that was suggestive of a boa constrictor.

The night being very cold, the three men were crowded roundthe stove, engaged in deep and earnest conversation. Two of themen were young; one about two or three and twenty, the other ayear or two older. They were well dressed, and apparentlybelonged to a class not given to frequenting thinking-places ofthat kind. The third man was of a somewhat striking appearance.He was swarthy as a Gipsy—a black beard and moustache,black eyes, black hair, cropped close to the skull. In his earshe wore small gold rings, and his style, manner, and dressproclaimed him unmistakably a seafaring man.

Presently the glazed door of the shop swung open, and a Jewtumbled in. He was heavily bearded; on his head was a smallblack, tightly-fitting skull-cap. He wore long boots, with histrousers, which were very baggy, tucked into the tops, and a fur-lined coat, which must have been in existence for a generation atleast. He divested himself of this coat and hung it on a peg, andthen ordered vodka and caviare.

The three men ceased their conversation when the strangerentered; and he, when he had finished his repast, rose, and withsomewhat unsteady gait, as if he had been drinking, walked to thestove and asked if he might be allowed a seat there. The otherthree, with by no means good grace, made room for him. Theseafaring man was smoking a very black, very strong cigar. TheJew produced from his pocket a huge pipe, and, filling it withcoarse tobacco, asked the seafarer for a light, which was given.When his pipe was fairly in swing, he said to the man with thecigar:

'Unless I'm mistaken, you reek of the salt sea.'

'I suppose I do,' answered the other brusquely. 'Anyway, I'vebeen soaked with it often enough. Where are you from?'

'Constantinople.'

'So. A trader, I suppose?'

'Yes.'

'What do you trade in?'

'Anything on earth, so long as it will turn me in money.'

'Bah!' sneered one of the young men—'just like you Jewdogs. It's always money with you—money, money. It's youronly prayer.'

'In that respect I'm not sure that there is much differencebetween the Jew dog and the grasping Christian. But I don't wantto quarrel with you. I'm a stranger in the town. Will you drinkat my expense?'

'Yes,' answered the three as one man.

So drink was ordered, and for a time the conversation wasfriendly and general, and when it flagged a little the Jewsaid:

'That's a curious robbery that has taken place lately.'

'What robbery?' asked one of the young men, eyeing the Jewkeenly.

'The robbery of the Crown jewels.'

'Oh yes; very curious.'

'By Father Abraham!' exclaimed the Jew, with a great puffingout of his breath, 'but I should like to call some of theprecious stones mine. The God of Jacob! I wonder what has becomeof them. They haven't caught the thieves yet, I suppose?'

'No,' was the curt answer.

'Ah! they are clever fellows; must be wonderfully clever to dosuch a deed. But I expect they'll be laid by the heels yet.'

'No fear,' answered one of the youngsters. 'You can dependupon it they know what they are about.'

'Ah! just so, just so,' mused the Jew—'just so. It's aclever bit of business—clever, clever; by God it is! Iwonder, now, what has become of those jewels. They are worthrisking body and soul for.'

'I say, stranger,' remarked the seafarer, 'you had better becareful what you say, or you may land yourself in trouble.'

'True, true, true!' moaned the Jew. 'But, God in heaven, onlyto think of all those precious gems! It almost turns one'sbrain.'

He sank into a moody silence, and stared fixedly at the stove,as though he was dreaming dreams about the gems. The other threemen conversed in low tones for a little time, until the twoyounger ones rose up, said 'Good-night,' and left, for the hourwas getting late. Then the Jew seemed suddenly to wake up fromhis reverie, and he asked the seafarer if he was going.

'No; I am lodging here,' was the answer.

'So. That reminds me. Landlord, can I have a bed?'

He was told he could. There was some haggling about the priceto be paid, but the matter was amicably settled in the end, andthe Jew invited the seafarer to have some more vodka. True to thetraditions of his kind the world over, the sailor man acceptedthe invitation, and the two sat drinking until the landlord cameto remind them it was time they retired.

The sailor was pretty far gone in his cups, and the Jewoffered to assist him up the stairs to bed. With some difficultythe pair managed to mount the greasy, rickety stairs to where thesleeping chambers were, and the Jew accompanied the sailor man tohis room, and then from his capacious pocket he produced a bottleof vodka, and they set to work to discuss it. Presently the Jewmurmured in a maudlin way, as his thoughts still ran upon thegems:

'By Father Abraham, but it was a big haul! Why, there musthave been a million roubles' worth of them.'

'Of what'? asked the skipper, who, though pretty well soaked,seemed to have his wits about him.

'The stolen jewels,' mumbled the Jew. 'I would buy every oneof them at a price; I would, so help me God!'

'Now, what price would you give?'

'How could I tell—how could I tell, unless I sawthem?'

The sailor man became thoughtful and silent, and the Jew sankdown in a corner like a sack, mumbling incoherently gutturalsentences, in which the words 'gems, jewels, gold,' predominated.Presently the sailor was overcome by his potations, andstretching himself on the bed, boots and all, was soon snoring indrunken sleep. A couple of hours later the Jew crept from theroom, sought his own chamber, and was speedily sound asleep inthe bed.

The next morning the two men drank their tea together, andhaving lighted one of his long black cigars, the sailor invitedthe Jew forth into the city.

'You say you are from Constantinople?' asked the sailor, asthey walked together.

'Yes.'

'Do you reside there?'

'Yes.'

'In what part?'

'The Jews' quarter.'

'And, I suppose, like all your tribe, you don't know your ownwealth?'

The Jew sighed dolefully.

'Alas, alas!' he exclaimed; 'by Abraham in heaven, I swear Iam very poor.'

'Ah! you all say that.'

'It's true, it's true. But why do you ask?'

'Oh, nothing; only, if you had been rich, I might have putsomething in your way by which you could have doubled yourriches.'

'What is it? What is it? cried the Jew eagerly. 'Tell me; Ican get money. Thousands, tens of thousands, millions of roubles,if needs be. But tell me what it is. I want to grow rich; I wantmoney—want it by sackfuls. It is my dream; I worshipit.'

'Ah,' grunted the sailor, with a smack of his lips, 'you areall alike. Have you any friends in Moscow?'

'No; I am a stranger. I have come to trade. I will lend moneyat interest on good security, or I will buy anything that I cansell again.'

The sailor became very thoughtful. He puffed away at his rankcigar like a man who was deeply absorbed, and the Jew ambled onby his side, mumbling to himself. Presently the sailor addressedhim:

'Do you stay in the same lodgings to-night r

'I do:

'Good. I'll meet you at nine o'clock, and may be able to putsomething in your way. I must leave you now.'

'Count on me,' said the Jew. 'If we can do a deal together,I'll put money in your purse.'

'You bet you will! You don't suppose Em going to serve youwithout serving myself. I don't love your race enough for that.It's a matter of convenience. But till to-night, adieu.'

'By the way, how are you called?'

'I am known as Captain Blok. I command a small trader doingbusiness in the Black Sea.'

'Where is she now?'

'She is being overhauled at Azov.'

'Will you be alone to-night?'

'No. The two friends you saw last night may be with me.'

'Good. This looks like business. I will meet you withoutfail.'

The sailor went off, and the Jew continued his jaunt throughthe town. When nine o'clock came, it found him by the big stovein the restaurant. There were several other customers there, buthe held aloof from them, for one had a little before called him'a dog of a Jew,' saying he had no business to be there amongstChristians, and tried to pick a quarrel with him. As a quarter-past nine struck, Captain Blok entered. He was alone. Headdressed a few preliminary remarks to the Jew, then requestedthat he would follow him to his bedroom.

'What is your name, Jew?' asked Blok, as he shut the door.

'Nikolai—Israel Nikolai.'

'Are you a Russian?'

'I was born in Poland, but have been trading in Constantinopleand the Levant for many years.'

'You are good for a deal in a big way?'

'Yes.'

'And can be secret?'

'As the grave.'

At this point the door opened, and Blok's companions of theprevious night entered. They looked at Blok inquiringly, then atthe Jew suspiciously.

'He's right,'I said Blok. Then turning to the Jew, hecontinued:

'Now look here, Israel Nikolai, you say you can commandmoney?'

'Yes, to any extent.'

'Very well; now, we've got some stuff to sell, and we aregoing to take you to see it. The stuff is contraband, thereforeyou must be careful. And if you play us false, just as sure asGod Almighty is up in heaven, your throat will be cut, and yourdirty carcass will be flung into the river Moskva.'

The Jew smote his breast, and wailed out with passionateeagerness:

'Trust me—trust me! To those whom I serve, I am asstaunch as steel.'

'That's right. Now, then, come with us.'

The four men descended the greasy staircase, and went forthinto the street. It was an intensely dark night. A few hazy starswere alone visible in the black sky. The street-lamps in thatpart were very poor affairs, and gave but little light. The fourproceeded for a short distance; then Blok said:

'Nikolai, before we go any further, you must let us blindfoldyou.'

The Jew protested, but at last yielded, and a thick scarf wasbound about his eyes. Then one of the men took his hand and ledhim. They walked along in silence for quite half an hour, until,by the sound of flowing water, the Jew knew he was near theriver. A halt was made. There was the grating of keys in a lock,a door was opened, and Israel was led forward into a passage,while the door was locked and barred. He was then taken down aflight of stairs, where the bandage was removed from his eyes,and a light was procured. He found himself in a cellar, with anarched brick roof, from which water dripped, while the floor ofred brick was slimy and foul. The place was furnished with asingle trestle table and a stool or two. In one corner was alarge trunk, bound with cowhide. This was opened, and somebundles lifted out, placed on the table, and untied, and therewere revealed to the wondering Jew heaps of precious stones,including diamonds, rubies, amethysts, pearls, sapphires,turquoises. At the sight of the gems the Jew rubbed his handstogether, and his eyes glistened with almost unnaturalbrilliancy.

'Father Abraham!' he exclaimed. 'What wealth! what a fortune!Are they all real? Let me feel them; let me examine them.'

Blok so held the lamp that its rays were thrown full on to theheaps of gems, and the three men watched the Jew's everymovement. He examined the stones carefully, picked out some ofthe finest, weighing them in his hands, holding them close to thelight so as to see them better, then placing them in littleheaps.

A full hour was spent in this way. But few remarks were made,though every now and again the Jew broke into an exclamation ofdelight. At length Blok asked Nikolai what he thought ofthem.

'Splendid! wonderful! magnificent!' was the gasped answer.

'Now, then, are you open to trade?'

'Yes.'

'Will you buy the lot?'

'At what figure?'

'A million roubles.'

The Jew started back with a look of disgust on his face.

'It is too much—too much!' he almost screamed. 'They arenot worth it.'

'You lie, you dog!' put in one of the young men. 'You knowthey are worth a good deal more. But we want to sell themquickly, and you shall have them as a bargain for a millionroubles.'

Nikolai groaned, swore, protested, declared by all the fathersthat the price was outrageous, and at last, when he had exhaustedhimself, he wound up by offering seventy-five thousand roublesfor the lot. After much haggling, the three men agreed to takethe price, and Nikolai said he would go next day to the Bank ofMoscow, to which he had letters, and draw the money, and it wasarranged that the four men were to meet the following night out-side of the restaurant, and proceed again to the cellar, wherethe money would be exchanged for the jewels. And Blok added:

'As soon as the bargain's completed, you had better clear out.You can travel with me to Azov, if you like, and I'll give you acheap passage to Constantinople.'

The Jew turned to Blok, with a glance full of meaning, andreplied:

'I may sail with you, but I'll send my jewels a saferway.'

The business, so far, being concluded, Nikolai was once moreblindfolded. The lamp was extinguished, and they all left thehouse together. After going some distance, the bandage wasremoved from the Jew's eyes. The two young men went away, andBlok and Israel continued their walk to their lodgings.

The following morning Nikolai told Blok that he was going tothe bank to arrange about the money, but that the deal would haveto take place that evening in their bedroom at the café, as hewould not trust himself with them in the cellar with so muchmoney about him. To this Blok answered that the transaction wouldhave to be arranged in the cellar, that everything would beperfectly square and fair.

Reluctantly the Jew yielded, and went away. He met the captainagain in the evening at the restaurant, and Blok anxiouslyinquired if he had got the money, whereupon the Jew pulled from adeep pocket inside his vest a bundle of notes, the sight of whichcaused the captain's eyes to sparkle.

A little later they set off, being met on the route by the twoyoung men. Nikolai resolutely declined to be blind-folded again.He said there was no necessity for it. He also warned hiscompanions that he was well armed, and was prepared to resent anytreachery. They laughed, and said he was a fool not to see thatthey were anxious to trade, and not likely to offer violence,which would imperil their own safety.

The house by the river was at last reached. It had formerlybeen a store of some sort, but had apparently long beenuntenanted, and was falling into decay. One of the young men hadinserted the key into the lock of the door, and was about to turnit, when a whistle was blown, and almost as if it was by magicthe four found themselves surrounded by armed men, who seemed tocome through the earth. Before they could offer the slightestresistance, Blok and the two young men were seized and ironed,and a guard set over them. Then a police officer, the Jew, andthree or four other men, entered the premises, descended to thecellar, and, having ascertained that the gems were in the trunk,they bore the trunk out, and placed it on a cart that was inreadiness, and under a strong escort the stolen jewels wereconveyed to the Treasury, where several high officials werewaiting to receive them; and Blok and his companions realizedthat they had been tricked, trapped, and betrayed by the 'dog ofa Jew,' who was none other than Danevitch.

He says it was one of the proudest moments of his life, forhis part had been played with consummate art, and his triumph wascomplete. It remains now to explain how he managed to get on thetrack of his men, and net them so cleverly.

After his interview with Anna Ivanovna, he began to think thatshe could throw some light on the mystery if she liked, and hehad her shadowed. He ascertained from Lydia that Ivanovna had ason about five-and-twenty. He had paid court to Lydia, but shedid not like him. A few months before the robbery this young manhad spent a fortnight with his mother during the temporaryabsence of General Kuntzler. His mother was blindly devoted tohim, although he was known to be an idle, dissolute vagabond. Hehad been well educated, and had once held a position in the PostOffice, but had been discharged for some irregularity. His namewas Peter, and one night, some dash after the robbery, he and hismother were seen to meet in a lonely part of the suburbs.

From that moment a close watch was kept on Peter's movements,and it was ascertained that he was associated with another youngman, called Maiefski. They were always together, and in a littlewhile were joined by Blok, who was Peter's half-cousin. The olddisused store on the banks of the river was taken in Maiefski'sname, ostensibly to store grain there; but little by little thegems from the stolen articles, which were ruthlessly broken up,were conveyed from a house in the Kremlin which Peter rented tothe place on the river bank.

Blok had secured lodgings in the miserable restaurant in thepoor quarter of the earthen city, as he hoped thereby to escapeattracting any notice. At this restaurant the three rascals werein the habit of meeting. Then it was that Danevitch, being sureof his ground, assumed so successfully the role of the Jew.

On the night when he and Captain Blok staggered up to thelatter's room, Danevitch was perfectly sober, although he assumedthe gait and manner of an intoxicated person. When Blok had goneto sleep, Danevitch searched his person, and in a pocket-bookfound letters of a most compromising character. They seemed toshow-that the first idea was that the three men were to travelsingly to Azov, each man carrying as many of the gems as he couldwithout causing suspicions. They were to be deposited on Blok'svessel, and when all was ready Blok and his companions were tosail away to Constantinople, where they hoped to dispose of thegems, but if not, they were to take a journey to Persia, whereprecious stones could always be sold.

The appearance of the Jew on the scene altered then-plans, andthey thought if they could only get him to buy them their riskwould be greatly lessened, and the moment they touched the moneythey were prepared to clear out, and seek safety in some othercountry. Their little scheme, however, was entirely frustrated,thanks to the cleverness of Danevitch.

At Peters lodgings the battered gold of the stolen propertywas found, but ultimately the Polish crown was restored almost toits original state, and may still be seen in the museum atMoscow.

As the plot of the robbery was gradually unfolded, it wasproved that Anna Ivanovna was the victim of her perfidious son.She was a weak, rather stupid woman— at any rate, where hewas concerned—and she fell a victim to his wiles andwickedness. If she did not actually assist him, she shut her eyeswhile he made wax impressions of various keys, and on the nightof the robbery she unquestionably helped him and his companion,Maiefski, who was secretly admitted. It is possible that, whenKuntzler heard of the crime, he had some suspicion that hissister knew something about it, and, unable to face the awfulshame of exposure, he took his life.

Neither Maximoff nor his subordinates had anything to do withthe robbery. They were all exonerated after a most exhaustiveinvestigation, which led to the conviction of the guilty parties,who, with the exception of Anna, were sent to the Siberian minesfor life. She was condemned to ten years' incarceration in theprison fortress of Schlusselburg. That was practically a livingdeath.

VIII. — THE STRANGE STORY OF A SECRETTREATY

'I RECEIVED orders,' says Danevitch, 'to proceedwithout delay to the official residence in St. Petersburg ofPrince Ignatoff[*], who was then Minister of Foreign Affairs.' Hehad the reputation of being one of the most powerful Ministerswho had ever held the position in Russia. It was said of him, asit used to be said of Bismarck, that he was a man of blood andiron. He was dead to emotion; he had no nerves; he was pitiless;he was anti-everything that wasn't Russian; but he was also aborn diplomatist—clever, brilliant, unscrupulous, far-seeing, polished as a rapier, and as deadly as a rapier whenoccasion called for it.

[* Note. This name is a fictitious one, for obvious reasons, but the incidents related in the story are wellauthenticated.]

'Such was the common report about him, and no doubt it was, inthe main, true. He was a widower, with one grown-up daughter.There was a deadly feud, however, between them, and he haddisowned her, as she had chosen to marry against his will, andvery much beneath her, as her father averred. Her husband was inthe consular service. His name was Kasin; he was a member of amiddle-class family who had made money in trade; but Kasinhimself was said to be poor, and almost entirely dependent uponhis salary.

'These facts were common property, and naturally it must havecaused the Prince great annoyance to know that his daughter'sname was in everyone's mouth, and that she was vulgarly referredto as the wife of a poor devil of a consul, who found itdifficult to rub two roubles together. Caste is very strong inRussia, and the line of demarcation separating class from classis exceedingly well defined.

'The Prince was an utter stranger to me; I had heard muchabout him, but had never seen him. On being ushered into hisbureau, I beheld a small-made, delicate-looking man, with aremarkable and striking face. The mouth was small and firm; thenose prominent; the eyes deep-set, and of exceptional brilliancy;the eyebrows were thin, but well defined; and the forehead, inproportion to the small, sharply-cut features, seemed enormous.He was slightly bald in front, and such hair as he had wasturning gray. His face was clean-shaven. When his lips parted, herevealed a splendid set of teeth, absolutely without a flaw.

'As I looked upon this remarkable man, everything I had heardabout his personal character seemed to me to be more thanconfirmed. It was impossible to study the mouth without feelingthat it was capable of uttering cruel, cutting, bitter things. Itwas no less impossible not to understand that the small,brilliant eyes could peer into men's brains, and almost readtheir secret thoughts. Every line of his face, every feature,every glance, indicated an iron, a relentless, will; and when hespoke, the smooth, incisive tones confirmed this. His hands weresmall, well-shaped, but sinewy, as were his wrists. This was nodoubt due to many years' practice with the sword and the foil. Hewas a noted swordsman, had fought many duels, and had alwayssucceeded in either severely wounding or killing his man.Physically and mentally he could be a deadly antagonist; oneglance at him was sufficient to determine that fact, for fact itwas.

'He was perusing a document as I entered. He glanced over theedge of the paper, motioned me to be seated, and went onreading.

'For ten minutes the silence was unbroken, save for the rustleof the paper as he turned over the leaves. Only a man of verypronounced characteristics could have remained silent so longunder such circ*mstances.

'He finished his manuscript, folded it up, and placed it in asafe. Then he condescended to address me.

'"You have the reputation of being able to unravel mysterieswhen other men fail," he commenced.

'I could only bow to this.

'He drew an elegant little penknife from his pocket, and beganto trim his nails, but I noted that all the time his piercingeves were fixed on me.

'"You are reliable?" was his next remark.

'It was put in the form of a question. In other men the remarkmight have seemed commonplace. Coming from the Prince's lips, itwas full of meaning; it even covered a menace. That is to say, itcarried with it the implication, "Woe betide you if you arenot!"

'"If I were otherwise," I answered, "I should not occupy theposition I do."

'"True," he replied. "Now, the matter in which I am going toenlist your services is a delicate one."

'He paused, and fixed his eyes upon me again, and toyeddaintily with the penknife.

'"I have had to do with many delicate cases," I said.

'"Ah! And have been successful?"

'"More frequently than not."

'"You've been employed in Government business before?"

'"Yes," I answered shortly, as I felt somewhat annoyed at themanner in which he put his questions.

'"I am impressed with you," he was good enough to say.

'I returned no answer to that, merely making a very formalmotion of the head.

'"Our little introduction places us en rapport witheach other," he continued, closing the blade of his penknife witha snap. Even this remark was pregnant with meaning. It reallymeant that he understood me, or believed that he did. "And now Iwill tell you the business."

'He had been standing up to this moment, but here he seatedhimself, crossed his legs, and thrust his hands into his pockets.To the ordinary observer he would have appeared as the mostunconcerned person in the world, but I could not fail to see thathe was a master in the art of restraint. It was not difficult todetermine that, beneath the cold, passionless, immobile face wastremendous anxiety, and a suppressed nervous energy, that couldonly be kept in subjection by extraordinary will-power.

'"A special, confidential, and trusted courier," he continued,"arrived here yesterday afternoon, and placed in my hands thedraft of a secret treaty of the very greatest importance."

'Here he paused again, and looked at me in his peculiarmanner, as if he was trying to thoroughly understand how I wasaffected by the information he was giving me. Or, on the otherhand, it might have been that he had not quite made up his mindwhether or not I was a fit and proper person to be entrusted withState business of such a momentous nature.

'"Pray proceed, Prince," I said, with the greatestunconcern.

'"Bah!" he muttered, almost inaudibly, allowing irritation todisplay itself for a brief instant. His irritation arose, Iinferred, because he failed to read me as easily as he imaginedhe could do. Perhaps that was not quite the case, but it wassomething of the kind. The exclamation had scarcely left his lipswhen he broke into a smile—a cold, cynical smile, but fullof meaning. "That draft has been stolen," he added abruptly, andwatched to see what effect that announcement would have uponme.

'But I merely said:

'"I anticipated that."

'"Why?" he asked sharply.

'"By your manner, Prince."

'He smiled again, and said caustically:

'"I didn't know I was so shallow, and could be so easilyfathomed. But pardon me; I had forgotten for the moment that youare a master in your craft. We shall get on together. Yes, youare clever; the draft has been stolen. What that means you willbetter understand when I tell you that it may possibly plungethis country into war."

'"I recognise the seriousness of the matter, Prince," I said,"and, seeing how very serious it is, I would suggest that thereshould be no restraint, no reserve. If I am to be of use, I mustnot only have a free hand, but be trusted absolutely."

"'You are right, you are right," he replied quickly. "But thewhole business is fraught with such terrible potentialities thatextreme caution is needed."

'He rose, and paced up and down for some moments, stillkeeping his hands in his pockets. His face betrayed no agitation,but his manner did. Nevertheless, his self-restraint was veryremarkable. I waited for him to continue the conversation, andpresently he stopped and faced me.

'"Ah, yes!" he said, speaking in an absorbed way. "Well, theseare the particulars: The courier, who had been travelling nightand day, arrived, as I have already said, yesterday afternoon,and delivered to me a draft of a treaty. Having perused it, Iplaced it in a despatch-box and locked the box in that safe; but,notwithstanding the precaution, it has been stolen."

'"The box?" I asked.

'"No; the treaty only."

'"When did you make that discovery?"

'"This morning."

'"At what time?"

'"Soon after eight o'clock."

'He did not proceed to give me all the particulars innarrative form, as another person might have done, but I had todrag them from him, so to speak, by question and answer.

'"Where did the courier come from, Prince?" I asked.

'"Bulgaria."

'"Was he aware of the importance of the despatches hecarried?"

'"Certainly."

'"You don't doubt his honesty, I suppose?"

'"I don't see the slightest reason for doing so. He is one ofthe best men in the service."

'"Has he been here since?"

'"No. He was excessively fatigued with his long and tryingjourney, and being relieved of his responsibility, he said heshould sleep for the next twenty-four hours."

'"I suppose you have caused a search to be made?"

'"No," answered the Prince, with great decisiveness; "what wasthe use of doing that? The thief who steals a State document ofthat kind is not likely to leave much trace behind."

'"Of course a good many persons have access to yourestablishment?"

'"Yes—that is, to the business part of theestablishment; but my official residence is private; and thisbureau is sacred to myself: no one but very privileged people canenter here."

'"Do you suspect anyone?"

'"No. It's a mystery."

'"But is it clear that, whoever the person is, he must havebeen well acquainted with this place?"

'"Yes," answered the Prince thoughtfully, as he stroked hischin.

'"He must also have known that the draft had been delivered toyou?"

'"True, true," the Minister responded, with increasedthoughtfulness.

'"That argues that he was behind the scenes; he knew a gooddeal of what was going on, and was particularly well acquaintedwith the importance of the treaty."

'"Obviously."

'"And the document has been stolen for politicalpurposes?"

'"Obviously, again."

'"Or the thief, being a traitor to his country, if he belongsto this country, was actuated by mercenary motives only, andstole the draft to sell it to our enemies?"

'The Prince fixed his eye upon me again, and answered veryslowly, and with emphasis on every word:

'"It might be so—perhaps it is so."

'"Very well," I said. "Now, Prince, I must ask you to let yourmind dwell upon everyone in touch with you, and tell me if thereis a single one of them against whom you might justifiablyentertain some suspicion."

'"There is no one," he answered, after a thoughtful pause.

'"And yet an utter stranger to the place could hardly havecommitted such a theft?" I suggested.

'"That seems a feasible theory."

'"You've no reason to suppose, Prince," I asked, "that thedespatch-box was opened on the bare chance of its containingsomething of value?"

'"No. My deliberate opinion is the thief wanted that draft,and that alone. He is an enemy—a traitor; and if he can beidentified the penalty of his crime will be death."

'"If your opinion is right, the thief, of course, must haveknown the draft of the treaty was there?"

'"Quite so."

'"Who was likely to have known it, do you think?"

'Another long pause ensued before the Prince answered. Then hesaid:

'"Legitimately, very few indeed. It is one of the Statesecrets. There are many people who come and go here, and an alerttraitor might learn much. I see no sign to guide me. Clearlyenough, the thief must have been in possession of certaininformation supposed to be known to this bureau alone, and he hasavailed himself of the knowledge to purloin a document ofextraordinary political importance. Heaven and earth will have tobe moved to stop the thief leaving the country; but, what is ofmore consequence, he must be prevented sending the document away,or any abstract of it."

'"That is easily said," I remarked, with a smile, for heseemed to me to be underrating the difficulties of the case.

'"And it must be done," came from him in a tone so commanding,so authoritative, so decisive, that it revealed the man in histrue character. Moreover, his face wore a look of irondetermination, and his eyes appeared to glow with a strange,almost unnatural, light. After a pause, he added: "You have theresources of an empire behind you —a well-organized policeforce, an army of spies, the telegraph stem. These things, addedto your own skill, should enable you to bring the miscreant tojustice, and save the State secret from passing to ourenemies."

'He spoke with a great deal of subdued force, and I could seethat his mental anxiety was painful; and yet there was an outwardsemblance of calm. The extraordinary power of self-subjectionwhich the man possessed enabled him to almost entirely hide thenervous excitement which would have entirely overcome anyordinary man.

'The situation was certainly a singularly trying one; for herewas a responsible minister of the Crown, who, being entrustedwith a State document of stupendous importance, had to confess toits having been stolen within twenty-four hours of its cominginto his possession. There appeared to have been greatcarelessness somewhere, and I could see that the Prince wasterribly anxious, in spite of his self-possession.

'"You say that the document was delivered to you yesterdayafternoon, Prince?" I remarked, for I found it necessary to stillquestion, in order to make clear certain points which were verynecessary for my own guidance, and his natural reticence kept himfrom giving me every detail right off.

'"Yes," he answered shortly, as though he considered thequestion superfluous, for he had already told me what I nowwanted repeating, but I intended that the question should lead upto others.

'"How long did the courier remain with you after he haddelivered the papers into your hands?"

'"Not more than five minutes."

'"When he left did anyone else come into your bureau?"

'"No."

'"You perused the document, of course?"

'"I did. And to-day it was to have been laid before hisMajesty the Emperor."

'"How long did you remain here after the departure of yourcourier?"

'"An hour."

'"And you are sure nobody came in during that time?"

'"Absolutely certain."

'"And are you as certain, Prince, that nobody was concealed inthe room without your knowing it?"

'The question seemed to startle him, but in an instant hecontrolled himself again, and, with a cold smile, remarked, as heglanced round the room:

'"I am quite as certain. You can see for yourself that thereis no place where a person could conceal himself."

'I had to admit that that was so.

'"If I have not misunderstood you," I went on, "when you hadperused the document, you placed it in the despatch-box?"

'"I did. Roth safe and box were afterwards locked. I lockedthem myself, and took the keys with me."

'"When did you discover the loss?"

'"About an hour and a half ago."

'"Had the lock of the safe been tampered with?"

'"Not at all."

'"It was intact?"

'"Certainly."

'"And the despatch-box?"

'"That was intact also."

'"Then, both safe and box must have been opened with keys thatfitted them?"

'"That is obvious."

'"Are there any duplicate keys in existence?"

'"Yes; there are duplicate keys of all the despatch-boxes andall the safes in this department, but they are in possession ofthe Emperor himself. They are kept to guard against any possiblecontingency."

'"But presumably it would be very difficult for anyunauthorized person to obtain possession of them?"

'"I should say that the difficulties in the way are so greatthat we may dismiss it as being practically impossible."

'"That throws us back, then, on the theory that somebody musthave got possession of your keys."

'"There, again, the difficulties are so great that I cannotthink it possible. Come with me, and I will show you thesafeguards that are adopted."

'I followed him out of the room. At the door of his bureau wasan armed sentry. We traversed a long corridor. On each side weredoors. At the end of the corridor another sentry was posted. Wegained a large square hall, where several liveried servantsstood. Two came forward, and partly drew aside the massive velvetcurtains hung before the marble stairs; these stairs were coveredwith massive carpet, into which the feet sank.

'On the landings more liveried servants were posted. We passedalong a carpeted passage to the Prince's official residence, andentered a magnificent room, and thence into a luxuriouslyfurnished boudoir, where a lady sat alone, perusing a book. For amoment she did not notice me, as I was some little distancebehind the Prince, and partly screened by the velvet portiere atthe door. She jumped up, and was about to throw her arms aroundhis neck, but catching sight of me, she blushed, drew back, andsaid to him:

'"I did not expect you so soon."

'"I am engaged on some important business, Catarina," hereplied, a little brusquely. "You had better retire for atime."

'Without another word she withdrew. She was a young woman,about four or five and twenty, and one of the few I have seenwhose beauty might be said to be without blemish. Complexion,features, eyes, teeth, lips, hair— the whole figure wasperfect. She was ravishing—a woman for whom a man wouldhave perilled his soul.

'From the boudoir we entered a spacious and magnificentlyarranged and furnished sleeping apartment. In one corner was alarge cupboard. The Prince drew a peculiarly constructed key fromhis pocket, opened the door, and flung it back, remarking as hedid so:

'"That door is of steel. In that niche in the cupboard all mykeys are deposited every night. The door is then secured, and thekey of the door, together with many other keys, are given intothe charge of the confidential clerk, Vladimir Nicolayeff. He isan institution here, and has been in the Government serviceupwards of forty years."

'"Does he reside on the premises?" I asked the Prince.

'"He does," was the answer; "and you will now see howdifficult it is, with all these precautions, for anyone toabstract the keys."

'In answer to this, I could not refrain from remarking:

'"And yet, Prince, there is the hard fact that your safe anddespatch-box have been opened, and a State document stolen."

'He looked very thoughtful and grave as he replied somewhatsternly:

'"That is so. And what you have got to do is to endeavour tofind out how they have been opened, who opened them, and wherethe papers have gone to. Please commence your work at once, asevery hours delay is in favour of the thief."

'"You must pardon me, Prince," I remarked: "but I have a fewmore questions to ask, and you must allow me to work in my ownway."

'"Oh, certainly!" he exclaimed, a little peevishly, whichsomewhat astonished me, having regard to the way he hadcontrolled himself so far; but it was another indication of theanxiety that was consuming him.

'Nor was it to be wondered at, for he himself had hinted thatif this State secret was made known to the enemies of Russia itwas quite within the bounds of possibility that war mightensue.[*]

[* Note. This was quite true. The contingency of war was evenless remote than the Prince's words suggested. As a matter offact, it is now well known that the treaty had been formedbetween Russia and another country against Turkey, and had Turkeybecome aware of it, there is little doubt she would have flown atRussia's throat, with results less disastrous to herself thanthose which befell her at a later period, when the legions ofRussia crossed the Pruth, and commenced that sanguinary stragglewhich entailed such enormous loss of life, the expenditure ofthousands of millions of money, and human agony and sufferingbeyond the power of words to describe.]

'No man, much less the Prince, could have been indifferent tothat, for it was an open political secret that Russia at thatmoment was far from being in a fit condition to take the fieldagainst a powerful foe. The signs of the times pointed to acoining conflict at no distant date, and fully aware of that, itwas known, or believed, that the Prince, who was intenselypatriotic, intensely ambitious, and no less intensely desirous ofenormously expanding the Czar's dominions, had been makingHerculean efforts to consolidate the Empire, and gain theallegiance, or at least the neutrality, of certain States,without which Russia's aims might, and in all probability would,be frustrated. Rearing all this in mind, the reader will be at noloss to understand how a man like the Prince would be distressedby the danger which confronted him; for if anyone did know, hecertainly did, that the internal weakness of Russia was too greatjust then for a responsible Minister to risk a great war.

'By further questioning the Prince, I ascertained that he hada private and confidential secretary, in addition to twelveordinary secretaries. But not one of them was admitted to theprivate bureau, where for the time being the State papers weredeposited, without the Prince's permission. His official businesswas transacted in another department, and the inner sanctumsanctorum was in a measure sacred to the Prince himself. Asentry was always posted at the door, and he had strict orders toallow no one to enter who had not special business, and who wasnot furnished with a pass.

'Being hedged round with these precautions, it seemed verydifficult to comprehend how anyone could have gained access tothe room in order to obtain possession of the precious documents.In constructing a theory, there were many points that could notpossibly be overlooked. The chief of them was the all butabsolute certainty that there had been a conspiracy, and atraitor and a spy was in the camp. He had known of thenegotiations that were going on with respect to the treaty; heknew that the special courier was travelling post-haste toRussia; that the draft was delivered into the Prince's hands, anddeposited temporarily in the Prince's safe, where all documentsrelating to the Prince's department—that is, politicaldocuments— requiring the Foreign Minister's close personalattention were placed for his convenience.

'In the case of a document of such paramount importance asthis secret treaty, no copy of it could be made at Hist. This wasanother point the thief was obviously aware of, and it was alsocertain that he must have been pressed for time, or he would havemade a copy of the draft himself, or extracts from it, which itwas presumable might have answered all the purposes for which thedocument had been stolen. Such a course would not only haveprevented the hue and cry being raised, but all the resources ofa great Empire being put in motion against him.

'Examining the matter in this light, the question necessarilyarose. Who was there who, having access to the foreign Office,was enabled, in spite of all the stringent regulations andsafeguards, to penetrate to the very centre of thetemple—if one may use such an expression—and carryoff a secret which was known to comparatively few-people?

'This question was, of course, the crux of the whole affair,but I felt satisfied in my own mind about one thing. The guiltyperson was someone who knew the working of the Foreign Office,was well acquainted with the internal arrangements, and in closecontact with the Prince. It need scarcely be said, perhaps, thatthe Prince was exceedingly anxious to prevent the matter leakingout and becoming public property. It would necessarily havecaused great excitement and grave anxiety, and I agreed with himthat on many grounds it was highly desirable to keep it from thepublic.

'There was one other point I ought to refer to, and it is avery important one; the theft was clearly committed during thenight, or, at any rate, after business hours. On the first viewthat might seem to narrow the inquiry somewhat, though, as amatter of fact, it presented the affair in a more complex aspect;but, on the other hand, it seemed to me to point conclusively toseveral persons being concerned.

'In setting to work to read the riddle, I proceeded on theanalytical principle, and searched, to begin with, for themotive. That seemed very apparent. Firstly, it was a secrettreaty; secondly, it was framed against Turkey; thirdly, it wasconceivable that it was of vital importance to Turkey to knowwhat the treaty was likely to do, what it aimed at; therefore,somebody in the pay of Turkey, or somebody as a speculation, hadstolen the document with a view to pecuniary gain.

'The latter supposition seemed to me hardly tenable—atany rate, not so likely as the idea that Turkey had her spieseven in the Russian Foreign Office. I don't mean to say thesespies were Turks themselves. As can be understood, it would havebeen next to impossible for a Turk to have gained entrance to theForeign Office; but Turkey, of course, had her emissaries, andRussians were to be found so debased, so dead to all patriotism,so lost to every sense of honour, so mercenary, that they wereready to sell their country for the gain of gold. Of course,black sheep of this kind are numbered in every nation, thereforeRussia was no exception.

'Everything pointed to the thief being a Russian, and, being aRussian, he also had some connection with the Foreign Office, aconnection which gave him the right of being under the roof allnight.

'It is necessary to explain that the Foreign Minister inRussia is provided with an official residence in the ForeignOffice itself; that is to say, a portion of the actual buildingis set apart for the accommodation of himself and family andsuite. An official of this kind keeps up a great deal more statethan an English Minister does, and his suite and servants aregenerally very numerous.

'In the Prince's case, there were fewer people about him thanusual, for the reason that he had no family. Nevertheless, Ifound that, including footmen, pages, and lower servants, therewere forty persons in his ménage, and his domestic affairswere attended to and presided over by the lady whom he hadaddressed as Catarina, and whose ravishing beauty had so struckme. It is not necessary to refer to her by any other name. Thislady had two private maids, and she exercised very considerableinfluence over the Prince's personal and domestic affairs.

'At this stage of my theorizing it seemed to me very clearthat the miscreant would be found amongst the personnel ofthe Prince. The consideration of all the facts forced me to this,the most feasible conclusion. But I did not lose sight of thealmost absolute certainty of a conspiracy, because it was hardlyconceivable that one person, and one person only, would havecommitted such a daring act of treason; for an act of that kindwas very foul treason indeed, and in Russia was punishable withdeath.

'Assuming that I was right with regard to my surmises, itwould seem that a member of the household had been tampered with;pressure and temptation had been brought to bear upon him fromoutside. The temptation must have been great: heavy payment wouldbe made; the traitor had been willing to sell his country forblood-money, and I was at pains to try and ascertain if anymember of the Prince's personnel had given indications ofbeing in possession of an unusual amount of money.

'I have endeavoured so far to make clear to those who may readthis narrative the mental process by which I tried to lay hold ofa clue. I need scarcely say that at the outset in a case of thiskind one gropes in the dark. There is not a ray of light at firstto guide him, and he must proceed cautiously and warily lest hego astray, and, while he is straining his eyes in one direction,his quarry is safely flying in another. Seeming impossibilitieshave to be reconciled with probabilities, and probabilitiesreduced to certainties. And when a clue, no matter how faint, hasonce been struck, it must be followed up patiently, intelligibly,and doggedly. There are three golden rules to be strictlyobserved by him who would succeed in connecting crime with itsauthor. They are patience, silence, watchfulness.

'Human craft and human cunning are very difficult things todeal with, nor can one deal with them at all unless he is deeplyread in human nature. In this instance craft of no ordinary kindhad to be encountered. The criminal, to begin with, was not ofthe ordinary type. It was probable that up to this time he hadlived a seeming virtuous life, and knowing how terrible was thepenalty attaching to his wrong-doing, he would strain every nerveto prevent suspicion falling upon him. I had necessarily toconsider all these little details, for they were essential tosuccess.

'Although the Prince bore the reputation of being a cool,calculating diplomatist, who had outwitted every otherdiplomatist in Europe with whom he had had dealings, I found thatin this matter of the stolen treaty he somewhat discredited hisreputation; for he was by no means cool, and seemed unable toenter into the calculations which were necessary to a clearunderstanding of the course to be pursued if the mystery was tobe unravelled. He had at the outset reminded me that I had theresources of an empire at my command, and he insisted on thetelegraph being set instantly to work, and the police throughoutthe country being placed in possession of the facts. I wasopposed to that course myself; I thought it was as likely as notto frustrate our efforts. But, of course, he had his own way, andhe soon began to display not only irritation, but decided anger,when he found that I narrowed my search to the Foreign Office,and showed no inclination to go further afield.

'"It seems to me," he cried warmly, "that you are simplywasting time, and giving the enemy a chance. While you arehanging about here the traitor is making good his escape. Is itnot certain that, whoever it is who stole the document, he is nowhurrying to Turkey with it as fast as he can?"

'"No, Prince," I replied; "it is by no means certain that suchis the case. On the contrary, I incline very strongly indeed tothe belief that the traitor will be found here under this roof;that he has not stirred away, and is not likely to stiraway."

'"You are wrong," he said sharply.

'"We shall see," I answered. "I admit that it is highlyprobable the document is being conveyed to the TurkishGovernment. If that is so, we cannot hope to overtake it, andanother move will have to be made on the diplomatic board inorder to checkmate those who have circumvented you. Your splendidskill in the game will enable you to determine the move. You maydepend upon it that those who have entered into this conspiracyto convey valuable information to our country's enemy have wellcalculated the chances of success, and have taken means to ensurethe information reaching its destination. But the key of thepuzzle must be searched for here. If we find that key quickly, wemay be able to prevent the information reaching the TurkishGovernment; but it is useless trying to do so without thekey."

'"Then, you suspect someone in the department?" the Princeasked.

'"I don't suspect anyone at present," I answered.

'"What I mean to say is, you think the thief is one of theemployees of the Foreign Office?"

'"I think the thief is a member of your own household,Prince."

'He looked at me in astonishment; then something like a smileof incredulity flitted across his stern face as he exclaimed,"Oh, nonsense!"

'"Why do you think it nonsense?" I asked.

'"It seems to me simply impossible that it could be so. Nomember of my household could have gained access to thebureau."

'At this I reminded him that, whereas in the daytime thecorridors of the Foreign Office were patrolled by sentries, theywere withdrawn when business hours closed, though sentries wereon duty all night outside.

'"But all communication between my residence and the office isshut off at night by locked doors," he answered.

'"That only serves to show how very cunning and very cleverthe thief was to succeed in reaching your room and opening thesafe in spite of bolts and bars," I said.

'The Prince grew very thoughtful. He seemed greatly struck bymy theory, and ultimately confessed that he had not seen thematter from that point of view before. The result was he said Iwas to work in my own way, to follow my own lead, and to have anabsolutely free hand.

'"It is a dastardly business," he exclaimed with warmth, "andeven if the traitor were to turn out to be my own brother, Iwould not hesitate to shoot him, for nothing short of instantdeath would be a fitting punishment."'

Of course, all the resources peculiar to the Russian policesystem were utilized so far as they could be in a case of thiskind. But the difficulties in the way will at once be apparentwhen it is borne in mind that the fact of a treaty having beenstolen from the Foreign Office had to be kept as secret aspossible. If the matter had leaked out, and become generallyknown to the public, the excitement would necessarily have beentremendous, and the objects in view—that is, the capture ofthe thief and the recovery of the missing document—would,in all probability, have been frustrated.

It will not be out of place here to explain that in Russiathere is an armed police answering to the French gendarme; thenthere is a municipal police, very similar to the police of GreatBritain; and lastly there is a vast army of spies, ormouchards, as the French call them. In this army bothsexes are represented, and they overrun Russia. The threebranches of the police service are not worked and controlled fromone centre, owing to the vastness of the country; and this wantof centralization has always been a Haw in the administration, asit is sometimes difficult to bring the various centres intocomplete harmony.

From these particulars, it will be gathered that a great dealmust depend on individual effort, for while in the concrete thesystem may present weak parts and differences that areirreconcilable, in the abstract there is a unity of motion whichgives the individual tremendous power, in this way: An accreditedGovernment agent moving from point to point could demand, andwould receive, every possible assistance, and the lumberingmethods of the bureaucracy would be dispensed with.

In our own country we often complain very bitterly about thered-tapeism which so seriously clogs and hampers freedom ofmovement. But this red-tapeism of ours is nothing as comparedwith Russia. Russian red-tapeism is responsible for tremendousevils, and it often retards in a painful manner theadministration of justice.

It will now be clear, probably, to the mind of the reader thatan individual in Russia, endowed with faculties beyond theordinary, has a chance of very signally distinguishing himself.This was certainly the case with Danevitch; and while nominallyhe was under the control and subject to the authorities in St.Petersburg, he was allowed a latitude and a freedom of actionaccorded to but few. His peculiar talents and his individualitybegot him this distinction, and while it placed greatresponsibility on him, it left him so far untrammelled that hewas enabled to exercise his independent judgment, and pursue thecourse which seemed to him, according to the circ*mstances of thehour, the right one.

After all, this was but another illustration of the fact thatnothing succeeds like success. Danevitch had been singularlysuccessful, though his success was due to talents only one removefrom genius.

He has already, in his own words, made it plain that, in thecase of the missing treaty, he believed, and in fact feltcertain, that the culprit would be found amongst the Prince'shousehold, though this did not prevent him availing himself ofall the resources of the police department, which of course hehad a right to do. But necessarily he was hampered by the secrecyit was so important to observe. What he did was to request bytelegraph that the authorities in all the principal towns,seaports, and frontier stations should issue orders for a morethan ordinarily strict examination of the passports and papers ofpeople passing out of the country; that every person from St.Petersburg should be closely questioned, and should suspicion bearoused by his answers, he should be detained, and his luggagesearched.

This is a measure permissible in Russia, but would not betolerated in England. But in the vast dominion over which theCzar rules it is a necessity, and through its means many a crimehas been detected and many a plot frustrated. It is right to saythat the seizure of luggage is only resorted to when there isstrong reason for believing that the owner is a dangerousperson.

Although Danevitch took the steps indicated, he did notbelieve for a moment that anything would result beyond a greatnumber of people being seriously inconvenienced, some innocentpersons being arrested, and a great deal of blundering on thepart of jacks in office, and of boorishness on the part of localpolice, who, dressed in a little brief authority, like toexercise it with all the brutal brusqueness peculiar to ignorantminds. He relied upon his own methods, and felt convinced that,if the mystery was ever to be unravelled, it could only be doneby his own individual efforts. The more he dwelt upon all thedetails of the case as he had gathered them, the more he wasconvinced the guilty person would be found to be somebody who wasin close communication with the Prince. Working on this basis, heclassified the household under three heads for the purpose ofgiving his theory a somewhat practical form:

Firstly, there were the lower servants of the ménage.Secondly, the upper servants. Thirdly, the body servants of thePrince and his close personal attendants, including hissecretaries, clerks, shorthand-writers, and amanuenses.

Those in the first category he dismissed from his calculationsaltogether, since it was so highly improbable that any one ofthem could have had the opportunities for committing such acrime. Obviously, in an establishment so constituted as theofficial residence of the Prince was, an inferior servant couldnot have gained access to the Prince's private rooms withoutrunning the gauntlet of many vigilant eyes, and incurring so muchrisk as to make it all but impossible that he could succeed.

'Those who fell into the second category were not passed overwithout a little more consideration and a critical examination ofthe possibilities which were presented, when they were weighedindividually and collectively. But when all this had been done,Danevitch scored them off the slate, too, and the sphere of hisinquiry was so far narrowed.

In the third category there were necessarily included personsof intelligence which ranked higher than that to be found in theother two. But, as Danevitch progressed with the working out ofhis theory, he deemed it important to subdivide this thirdcategory, because his investigations made it clear that only afew of these individuals were so situated as to have the chanceof abstracting the document.

Let it be distinctly borne in mind that the paper was in adespatch-box, locked. The despatch-box was in a safe, locked. Thesafe was in the Prince's private bureau, where none but theprivileged were allowed to enter, and the door of which was alsolocked. Now, then, let it be still further remembered that thekeys necessary to open the door of the safe and the despatch-boxwere kept in a safe in the Prince's bedroom, and the key of thatsafe was one of a number which every night were given into thecustody of Vladimir Nicolayeff, the Clerk of the Keys.

There was another point which had to be very closelyconsidered. It was this: the person who stole the document musthave known it was there. He could not have known it was there ifhe had not occupied a position which enabled him to learn a gooddeal of what was going on; but as it could not be supposed for amoment that a Minister like the Prince would have lightly made aconfidant of an inferior and irresponsible person, it wasdifficult to believe that the crime was the work of oneindividual; and here again Danevitch had to build up a theory,which he did as follows:

A was in possession of a secret that a draft treaty was beingconveyed from Bulgaria to Russia, and would reach the Prince at acertain hour on a certain day, and for political or mercenarymotives imparted the information to B, who, probably forpolitical motives only, wished to make it known to the Governmentof the country against which the treaty was framed. B had to fallback upon C to procure the keys, without which the documentscould not be carried off.

Here at once a conspiracy was suggested, and, a conspiracyadmitted, it was impossible to dismiss the courier and VladimirNicolayeff from it. These two men, of course, representedextremes of position. The courier, whose name was Buroff[*], was atrusted and confidential Government officer of good birth andhigh social position. Nicolayeff, on the other hand, was aporter—a trusted servant, it was true, but a servant ofhumble origin and low rank.

[* Note. The book has both "Boruff" and "Buroff." The latter is correct.]

His services, if they had been given and used, must have beenbought; that is, he had been corrupted, tempted from hisallegiance by money. Next, the third or middle person had to beconsidered. What position did he occupy? It was not easy toanswer that beyond saying it was obviously someone very close tothe Prince.

Having arranged these various points, and set them forth intheir order, he felt satisfied that his theory was a feasibleone, and, if acted upon, was more likely to yield results thanthe search-for-the-needle-in-the-bottle-of-hay process ofstopping people at the frontiers. At any rate, while that processwas being carried out, Danevitch proceeded on his own lines, andhis first step was directed to learning some particulars aboutBuroff.

In age the courier verged on forty. He had been in theGovernment service for fifteen years. Every confidence wasreposed in him, and he was greatly respected. He had been engagedon courier duty for something like four years, ana had made manyjourneys between Turkey and Russia. Formerly he had been aconfidential clerk at the Russian Consulate at Smyrna.

He was a married man, and had four children, but lived apartfrom his family. There had been serious disagreements between himand his wife, owing, so it was stated, to his infatuation foranother lady, which had led to all sorts of complications,difficulties, and domestic jars. These, of course, were purelyfamily matters, and had not affected his Government position, asit was considered there were faults on both sides. Buroff was notwell off. Such officials are poorly paid in Russia; and as he wasforced to keep up two establishments, and moreover wasextravagant, his resources were severely taxed.

So much did Danevitch learn of Buroff. Not much, if anythingat all, to suggest a probability that Buroff had any guiltyknowledge. He was a poor man: that was the worst that could besaid about him. But poverty lays a man open to many temptations.Starving virtue is sorely tested when gold is jingled in itsears. It is so easy to be honest when one wants for nothing.

Such were Danevitch's reflections, and he put Buroff in hisnote-book, as he says, for future use if necessary. He thought itwas just possible that ultimately the courier would prove one ofthe pieces necessary to complete the puzzle.

He next turned his attention to Vladimir Nicolayeff, a man ofa totally different stamp. He was an old man-well, that is, hewas close on sixty. He had been in the army, and had seen servicein his youth, but, having been severely wounded, was discharged,and ultimately got employment under the Government. He had servedat the Foreign Office a great many years. His position, thoughhumble, was an important one. In his lodge in the entrance-hallall the keys not in use were kept. He also received messages andparcels, answered questions of inquirers, and pointed out the wayto the different departments.

At this stage Danevitch sought another interview with thePrince, who cast a quick, keen glance at the detective, and askedcurtly:

'What news?'

'None,' was the equally curt answer.

'Have you entirely failed?' asked the Prince.

'At present I can say nothing.'

'But you have got no clue?'

'No.'

A look of annoyance swept across the face of the Prince, andhe shrugged his shoulders, as if in disgust.

'I suppose it is hopeless now to expect any results from yourinquiries?'

'You forget, Prince,' said Danevitch, with dignity, 'it is notmany hours since you instructed me in the matter. I cannotperform impossibilities.'

'True, true,' was the irritable response. 'But tell me, do yousee any likelihood of being able to bring the guilt home toanyone?'

'Excuse me, Prince,' answered Danevitch firmly, 'I am notgiven to expressing ill-formed opinions, and, not being aprophet, I decline to run the risk of prophesying.'

'Forgive me,' said the Prince; 'I am afraid I have allowed myanxiety to blind me to common-sense. But the fact is, this losshas preyed upon my mind terribly. It is a very serious affairindeed—very serious. Moreover, it shows that there is atraitor somewhere. If we have traitors about, the State is indanger. Therefore it is imperative that this matter should besifted to the very bottom. No time, no money, no patience, noskill, must be spared. The truth will have to be revealed.'

'I would venture to remind you, Prince,' said Danevitch, 'thatthe virtue of patience is one which, above all others, should beexercised in a case of this kind.'

The Prince was not indifferent to the point of the remark,and, bowing with consummate politeness, said:

'Pardon me, Danevitch; I have perhaps been hasty. Youunderstand your art better than I do. I have no right to dictateto you. Pray proceed on your own lines.'

'Thank you,' Danevitch replied. 'We shall get on now. Myobject in requesting this interview is to ask who conveys yourkeys to Nicolayeff at night?'

'No one. It is his duty to come to me and receive them. But asit often happens that it is not convenient for me to see himmyself, the keys are then given to him by my valet—a fineyouth named André.'

'Did André give them to him the night before last, when thepapers were stolen?'

'No; I gave him the keys myself.'

'There is no mistake about that, Prince?'

'None whatever.'

'One more question: Did you go out that night?'

'I did. I went to the opera.'

'What time did you return?'

'About two in the morning.'

'Did you note if the door of the safe in your sleepingapartment was closed then?'

'I haven't a doubt about it.'

'But you didn't try the door?'

'No.'

'Were the keys in their proper places in the morning?'

The Prince did not answer immediately. He appeared to bereflecting. At last he said:

'Yes, of course they were. I remember now taking them out ofthe safe myself, and handing them to my private secretary, whoproceeded with me to my bureau. There is one point I forgot totell you at our last interview. When I opened the safe in thebureau, I noticed that the lid of the despatch-box was wide open.It was that that aroused my suspicions, and led to my discoveringimmediately that the papers had gone.'

'But the despatch-box had been locked overnight?'

'I am certain of it.'

'So that the thief must have forgotten to close it again afterabstracting the papers.'

After this interview, Danevitch felt more than ever convincedthat someone in very close personal relations with the Prince hadbeen a party to the deed, and began to look round to see ifsuspicion could be justifiably entertained against any one of theinner household, so to speak. With a view to this end, hearranged the following plan with the Prince. He was to spend twodays at the official residence in the character of a foreignvisitor—the Prince's guest. André, the valet, was to betold off to personally attend him.

In due course Danevitch arrived. He was driven to theresidence in one of the Prince's carriages, which was sent to thestation to meet him. He had a certain amount of luggage, whichwas deposited in the handsome bed-chamber allotted to him. He wasa German on a secret mission, and did not understand Russian. Hisget-up would have deceived his own mother. He found André asmart, intelligent young man, who seemed to wear his heart uponhis sleeve. There was nothing whatever in his manner or bearingwhich caused Danevitch to mistrust him.

The beautiful Catarina presided over the Prince's household,but never sat at his table. The detective was a little puzzled atfirst to understand the reason of that; and, in fact, Catarinawas a kind of mystery, but in a few hours he had defined herposition. Ostensibly she was his ward. She was the daughter of avery old friend of his, a military man, who had been killed onactive service, and, in accordance with a solemn compact madebetween the two men, the Prince undertook to be a father to theorphan daughter. That was the story generally believed; at anyrate, people affected to believe it. Danevitch did not. He foundthat Catarina had great influence over the Prince at times; butat others he seemed to treat her with coldness, even disdain,according to his mood. Danevitch came to the conclusion thatCatarina was, in her way, almost as much a diplomatist as thePrince himself; but he saw signs—trifling ones, butsignificant to him—that whatever love or affection therewas was on the Prince's side. He was sure that Catarina was nothappy, but led a lonely, fretting life in that splendidpalace.

Danevitch went for two days, but his visit was extended to aweek. When he was taking his departure, the Prince asked him ifhe was any wiser than when he went.

'A little,' answered Danevitch.

'But is there anybody in my household whom you suspect?' askedthe Prince with some anxiety.

'Frankly there is,' said the detective.

'Who is it?' the Minister demanded in a peremptory tone.

'Pardon me,' said Danevitch, 'for declining to answer you now.But unless I am very much mistaken, I shall be able to give yousome valuable information before many days have passed.'

IN less than a week Danevitch sought another interview withthe Prince.

'I have a request to prefer this time,' said Danevitch aftersome preliminary remarks.

'What is it?' asked the Minister quickly, and possibly readingin his visitor's face that he had made a discovery.

'You have a daughter?

'Yes,' gasped the Prince, who, in spite of his power of self-control, started at the question, and his brow clouded over.

'She is the wife of Kasin, who is the Russian Consul atSmyrna.'

A cold, cynical smile of bitterness played about the Prince'sthin lips as he remarked:

'That is an open secret. But let me tell you at once, I havenot seen my daughter for years, and never wish to see her again.She is an ingrate. I have cast her forth from my heart.'

The Prince betrayed the fact that, though he bore thereputation of being a man of blood and iron, and very likelyjustified his reputation when it came to matters of diplomacy, hehad hidden springs of deep emotion and passion which were capableof being called into play.

'I do not wish to probe you, sir, nor touch upon your domesticaffairs more than can possibly be helped. I have come here torequest that you will influence the recall of your son-in-lawfrom Smyrna.'

The Prince sprang to his feet, and grasped the back of hischair, and though he tried to control himself, it was evident hewas greatly excited.

'Good God!' he exclaimed, I do you mean to say that my son-in-law has had a hand in this business?'

'I mean to say nothing, sir, at present.'

'But your request carries with it an accusation. Remember theterrible responsibility of that. If Kasin has had a hand inpurloining these papers he is a traitor, and the penalty isdeath.'

'I am aware of that, Prince.'

'The disgrace to me would be terrible. I hate him, but he ismy son-in-law.'

The Prince paced up and down the room. He was stronglyagitated. His pride was wounded, perhaps, as it had never beenwounded before. Danevitch remained silent. He had nothing more tosay then. Presently the Prince swung round on his heel, and saidsternly, and threateningly:

'Remember this, Danevitch, not only is your own reputation atstake, but the honour of my family. You may risk your reputationas much as you like—it is naught to me; but, by the Virgin!be careful of my honour, or—'

He suddenly checked himself. Danevitch rose, and, with a coldbow, remarked:

'I will withdraw from this business altogether. What I havelearnt shall be a locked secret with me. I wish you good-day,sir.'

'Stay!' cried the Prince. 'I apologize to you. I forgotmyself, but make allowance for my feelings. I am in the wrong;you are in the right. Forgive me. This matter must go through,let the consequences be what they may. Though my daughter, my ownflesh and blood, be guilty of this crime, she shall suffer. Mycountry— Russia's interests have the first claim upon me.Pray proceed. I was the father a few minutes ago. I am PrinceIgnatoff, Russia's Minister for Foreign Affairs, again.'

He resumed his seat. He was the calm, cold, passionless,unemotional diplomatist once more.

'Now, then, tell me all,' he said peremptorily.

'At this hour I have nothing to tell you. I am here to prefera request. That I have a motive in making that request, you maytake for granted.'

'You want Kasin to be recalled?'

'Yes.'

'It shall be done. When?

'Immediately.'

'Is it so urgent as that?'

'It is.'

'Good. He shall be recalled by telegraph.'

'I would request that he be commanded to leave Turkish soil intwelve hours' time, and to telegraph as soon as he is inRussia.'

'And after that?'

'And after that I will make a revelation to you.'

'So be it. In three days' time, call here again at this hour.You will find me alone, and prepared to receive yourrevelation.'

Danevitch took his departure. That same evening VladimirNicolayeff was walking along one of the principal streets. He hadbeen dining at a café, and was making his way back to his dutiesat the Foreign Office. A bearded man suddenly confronted him at acorner of a street, and said:

'Nicolayeff, what was your reward for being false to yourtrust?'

'What do you mean?' demanded the porter angrily.

'Why do you answer my question with another? I ask how muchwere you paid for being false to your trust?'

Nicolayeff was agitated and confused. 'Who are you?' hedemanded.

'The devil!'

'Then, betake yourself to your kingdom.'

'Not until I have clone with you here. Again I ask you howmuch were you paid for giving up the key of Prince Ignatoff'ssafe to the beautiful Catarina? Or was it her beauty alone thattempted you?'

Nicolayeff reeled. It almost seemed as if he was suddenlyseized with palsy, and he uttered a strange, half-choked cry ashe sank to the ground in a swoon. Perhaps in his superstitiousmind he really thought the bearded man was the Evil One. Apoliceman approached. The bearded man whispered something in hisear and disappeared. The policeman blew a whistle, and assistancecame. Then Nicolayeff was carried to the station, and when herecovered from the swoon he found himself a prisoner. In themeantime a message had been sent to the Foreign Office to saythat the Clerk of the Keys had been picked up in the street in aswoon, and was then in custody. The message was conveyed directto the Prince.

Three days passed, and Danevitch again presented himself atthe Prince's bureau.

'Have you any news, Prince?' he asked.

'A code telegram was sent to Kasin recalling him.'

'Is he in Russia?'

'I don't know. He has not answered.'

'Ah, I suspected that would be the case.'

'I await your revelation,' said the Prince calmly.

'It is here,' answered Danevitch, as he took a letter from hispocket-book and handed it to the Prince. 'Shall I retire whileyou read it?'

The Prince glanced at the handwriting, and became veryagitated.

'Yes,' he said, 'do. Come back in a quarter of an hour.'

As Danevitch went out, the Minister called to the sentry atthe door:

'He will return in fifteen minutes. In the meantime let no oneelse enter at your peril.'

When Danevitch went back, he found the Prince seated at hisdesk. His face was almost deathly in its whiteness; but he wascalm and frigid.

'You are deserving of your reputation,' he said. 'You haveindeed made a revelation. How did you obtain possession of thatletter?'

'I intercepted it. The writer believes, no doubt, that it isnow on its way to Turkey.'

'Nicolayeff is under arrest?'

'He is.'

'See that not a moment is lost in securing Buroff.'

'That shall be done, Prince.'

'The interview can end.'

'Have you no other instructions?' asked Danevitchsignificantly.

The Prince understood. A pang of emotion caused his face totwitch, and he turned away. But in a few moments he was the cold,passionless man once more.

'I have no other instructions,' answered the Prince with equalsignificance.

'And the letter?'

'I will keep it.'

Danevitch bowed and withdrew.

The following morning, early, a closed carriage, drawn by foursuperb horses, left the Foreign Offices. The occupants of thecarriage were Prince Ignatoff and the beautiful Catarina. She waselegantly attired, and looked charming; but there was anexpression of some anxiety on her face, and when she gave certaininstructions to her maid, who was to sit with the driver, therewas a tremulousness in her tone which was not natural to her.

The carriage was driven to one of the Prince's country estateson the great 'Moscow road. It was an old-fashioned mansion in themidst of pine-woods, and the extensive pine-woods round aboutswarmed with game, fur and feathered. The Prince oftenentertained large shooting-parties there, but on this occasion hehad no guests. The servants in charge had been apprised of hiscoming, and had the mansion in readiness.

Two nights later a strange thing happened. The Prince andCatarina were together in their chamber, when a shrill screamresounded through the house. It was a woman's scream. A fewminutes afterwards the Prince flung open the door, and rang hisbell for assistance. He was pale and agitated. When the servantsrushed up, he said, 'Your mistress has been taken suddenly ill.Attend to her,' and at the same time he ordered a man-servant toride with all speed for a doctor from the neighbouring village,six miles away.

When the servants entered the room, they found Catarina fullydressed, lying on the bed. Her face was ashen in its hue. Hereyes seemed starting from her head. Foam was oozing from hermouth; her limbs were convulsed. The servants did what theycould, but Catarina never spoke. When the doctor came, she wasdead. He examined her, and said she had died from the effects ofsome powerful poison. There was a strange smell in the room;there was a broken glass on the floor. Before leaving the house,however, he changed his opinion, and certified that she had diedfrom apoplexy.

Some nuns were brought from a neighbouring convent to pray andwatch by the body. Three days afterwards it was quietly andunostentatiously buried in a plain grave in the little villagecemetery. The Prince followed as chief mourner. An hour later hewas a changed man. He seemed to have grown ten years older. Aboutthree weeks later it was officially announced in theGazette and other papers that Prince Ignatoff had retiredfrom the Foreign Office by the advice of his physicians, hishealth having completely broken down.

Some few particulars have yet to be told. The letter whichDanevitch intercepted and handed to the Prince was written byCatarina. It was addressed to Madame Kasin at Smyrna. There arereasons why the letter should not be given in extenso, butit* substance can be indicated. The writer made it evident thatMadame Kasin, who was as strongly embittered against her fatheras he was against her, conspired with her husband and Buroff andCatarina to obtain the information contained in the secrettreaty, and sell it for a large sum of money to Turkey, to whomit was of immense value. Kasin, it appeared, had learnt that atreaty was being negotiated; and though Buroff would notundertake to purloin the document himself, he was heavily bribedto inform Catarina that he had brought it.

Between Catarina and Madame Kasin a very strong friendshipexisted. Catarina considered the daughter had been very badlytreated. This sympathy and friendship had led to great ill-feeling between Catarina and the Prince, who had threatened tosend her adrift. She undertook to abstract the document, but shewent to work so clumsily that, as the saving is, she gave herselfaway. And her incautiousness in writing that condemnatory lettershowed that she had not in her the qualities of a trickster and athief. She told the whole miserable story in the letter, and saidthat she herself would convey the precious document to Smyrna.She did not mention Nicolayeff's name, but Danevitch felt certainthat the Clerk of the Keys had been corrupted in order that thekey of the Prince's bed-chamber safe should be procured, and toput his belief to the test he accosted the unfortunate porter inthe street in the way we have seen. His intention was, if theporter betrayed himself, to place him at once under arrest. Hewas not prepared, however, for the sudden collapse of thewretched man, who did not long survive the shock and thedisgrace.

The whole matter, of course, was hushed up as much aspossible. It was deemed advisable that the details should notreach the ears of the public. It is perhaps needless to say thatthe Kasins, who were ready to prove traitors to their country,never again set foot on Russian soil. Danevitch confesses that hewas anxious, if possible, to save the Prince the disgrace ofhaving his own daughter arrested, hence the telegram. He was surethat telegram recalling Kasin would sound a note of alarm to him,and he would take himself off. That proved to be the case. Whensome months had elapsed, Buroff was quietly packed off toSiberia.

The Prince when he had sold off a large proportion of hisestates, went abroad—to France, it is said—where hespent the rest of his days in strict retirement. Before leavingRussia, he erected a magnificent and costly marble monument overthe grave of the beautiful Catarina, the mystery of whose deathwill never be solved until the secrets of all hearts areknown.

IX. — HOW PETER TRESKIN WAS LURED TODOOM

THE FIRST ACT THE PLOT

THE period was the reign of Alexander II. Thetime, the afternoon of a day in early summer. The place, anoffice in the huge building in St. Petersburg known as the Palaceof the Admiralty, one of the finest and most imposing structuresof the kind in the world. Its principal front is more than aquarter of a mile in length, while its wings, which extend to theNeva, are nearly seven hundred feet long. In this palace anenormous number of people are employed, including many women; andhere the whole business in connection with the Imperial navy istransacted.

The office referred to was a large room lighted by severallong windows. Running the whole length of the room was a flat-topped mahogany desk, on which were spread a number of plans ofvessels, tracing-papers, compasses, squares, pencils, and otherthings of a like kind usually found in the office of adraughtsman. To give the place its official description, it was'Department H, Left Wing, Second Floor, Room 12. ImperialYachts.'

It was under the control of a much-trusted Government servant,one Samuel Snell, That was not a Russian name, but an Englishone. Snell was an Englishman—a co*ckney, for he was bornwithin sound of Bow bells. He had been brought up as an engineersdesigner and draughtsman, and was considered very clever. He lefthis native country when he was three-and-twenty, and went toRussia, induced thereto by a Russian friend in trade in London,who had taught him to speak the Russian language, and assured himthat his talents would find greater appreciation and a bettermarket abroad than at home. Samuel Snell was influenced by this,and went. He was fortunate, through his friend's influence, inspeedily obtaining employment, and having marked ability, he madehis way.

In the course of time he obtained naturalization; married aRussian lady, the daughter of a gentleman holding an appointmentin the naval construction department; and ultimately, through hisfather-in-law's influence, obtained an appointment himself asassistant copyist in the Admiralty Palace. His talents soon madehim conspicuous; he was singled out for gradual promotion, untilat last he was placed at the supreme head of the departmentresponsible for the building and repairs of the Imperial yachts.It was no sinecure, but an important and responsibleposition.

In this room, on the day and at the hour in question, twoyoung women were seated. One had soft brown hair, bright blueeyes, a delicate complexion, and regular features. She was thedaughter of Snell, and was just twenty years of age. Her name wasCatherine. She was unmistakably of an English type, though bornin Russia, of a Russian mother, and had never been out of thecountry in her life. Her companion was as unmistakably Russian;she had dark eyes, black hair, olive complexion, and was slightlyolder than the other girl. They were both good-looking. Thebrunette was called Anna Plevski. Her face indicated greatstrength of character. She had a strong, determined mouth;intelligence beamed from her eves; her forehead spoke of brain-power.

Their respective positions were as follows: Catherine was aconfidential clerk to her father. She had been specially trainedfor the work, and had held the appointment for over three years.Anna was in another department altogether. She was what wastermed 'an indexer.'

The two girls were friends. They had been to school together.Anna had taken advantage of a little relaxation to slip into Room12 to have a chat with Catherine, for she knew Mr. Snell wasaway; he had gone down to Ivronstadt on official business. But itwasn't for the sake of a purposeless chat that Anna went to Room12. She had a deep and dark design, as was destined to berevealed at a later stage of this strange and tragic drama. Herown department was a long way off, in another part of the hugebuilding, and she was at some trouble to reach her friend'soffice by a very circuitous and roundabout route, anxious,presumably, that it shouldn't be generally known that she hadgone to Room 12.

'It's a beautiful day, Catherine, isn't it?' said Anna, aftersome preliminary greeting. 'It's a pity you and I are notrich.'

'Why?' asked Catherine, with a simple expression on her prettyface.

'Surely you don't need to ask why. If we were not meredrudges, we should be able to taste some of the pleasures of theworld—go where we liked, stay as long as we liked, andenjoy ourselves generally, instead of being stewed up here whenthe sun is shining.'

'Well, you know, money doesn't always bring happiness, Anna,my dear,' answered Catherine.

'It may not always do so; but as sure as eggs are eggs therecan be precious little happiness without it.'

'Oh, I don't know. Contentment goes a long way,' Catherinesaid, with some timidity, for she knew that her friend held verypronounced views, was unusually strong-minded, and had an ironwill, to say nothing of an unyielding dogmatism, whichoccasionally, when stirred up, became objectionable, and at timesoffensive. In short, Anna had an aggressive spirit, and wasdisposed to find fault with all constituted authority.

'Contentment!' she echoed with a malicious sort of chuckle;'how can one be contented with a lot that is hard, toilsome, andirritating? It's not pleasant to realize every hour of your lifethat you are only a drudge. I ask myself over and over again whywealth is so unequally distributed. Why should it be in the handsof the few, while the vast majority of mankind are the slaves ofthose few, and groan and sweat under the yoke of paidlabour— for what? merely to keep body and soultogether.'

Catherine had heard her friend express similar sentimentsbefore, so that she was not surprised at this bluntness ofspeech; but as she herself did not consider she had anyparticular cause to complain, and as the views she held were notaltogether in accordance with Anna's, she ventured to mildlyexpress dissent from Anna's doctrine. It only seemed, however, toarouse that young woman to a more vigorous display of herfeelings, and with a pepperiness that was distinctlycharacteristic of her, she exclaimed scoffing:

'Well, friend Catherine, I can't help saying that I've nopatience with anyone who is willing to accept stripes and lasheswithout a murmur. That's not my spirit. I've got brains, so haveyou, and yet we are forced to toil long hours every day for baresustenance, while thousands and tens of thousands of brainlesslouts are rolling in riches. Ugh! It makes me mad to think ofit.' Catherine smiled prettily as she remarked: 'You seem to havebeen stirred up to-day, dear. Something has put you out oftemper.'

'Yes; I am out of temper. I'm dissatisfied. Why, only to-dayan order was issued in our department that we are to work twohours extra every day owing to pressure of work; but, as youknow, the miserly Government take precious good care they won'tpay us so much as an extra copeck, no matter how long we work. Isay it's shameful!'

'But what's the use of fretting about it if we cannot alterit?' asked Catherine.

'But I say we can alter it. The working classes of thiscountry are the bone, sinew, and brains of the country; yet theyare kept in shackles and ground into the dust.'

'And yet, after all, Anna, talent is always recognised, andindividualism will make its mark.'

'Great heavens!' cried Anna, lifting her dark eyebrows inamazement, while she looked at her friend with something likepitying contempt, 'is it possible that you can cheat yourselfinto the belief that that is true? You know as well as I do thattalent and individualism are not worth a rap without influence toadvance them. Kissing goes by favour in this world: and if you'veno influence you may starve, while some idiot is pitchforked intopower and authority. But, there, don't let us wrangle any more atpresent. Some day I shall convert you, and bring you round to myviews. By the way, I see that our Little Father, the Czar, is tomake a yachting cruise round the coast of Finland next month, andthat his yacht, the North Star, is to be entirelyoverhauled and refitted.'

'Yes, that is so.'

'It's a very fine yacht, isn't it, the North Star?'

'I should think so. I've never seen it, though.'

'That's a wonder. I thought your father could have taken youon board any of the Emperor's yachts.'

'So he could, I've no doubt; though he has never done so.'

'But you have the plans of the North Star in thisdepartment, haven't you?'

'Oh yes.'

'I should like to see them. Would you mind showing them to me?I want to know what this grand vessel is like.'

Catherine hesitated; but failing to see that she would do anyharm by complying with her friend's request, she went to a hugesafe, and took therefrom a large roll of cartridge-paper, whichshe spread out on the desk, and kept it in position by weights atthe corners. And then there was revealed to Anna a scale drawing,showing the hull, the sections, the ground-plan, and generaldesign of the Imperial vessel, which was one of several used byhis Majesty for pleasure cruises.

This particular one was then in the hands of the Admiralty forrefit and overhaul, and was under orders to be at Kronstadt onthe 20th of the following month; to receive the royal party,including the Czar, for a trip up the Gulf of Bothnia, and alongthe coast of Sweden, returning by the coast of Finland.

Anna looked at the plan attentively, critically. Indeed, shestudied it; and having an excellent memory, the result oftraining as an 'indexer,' she was enabled to carry the whole ofthe plan in her mind's eye.

She would have liked to have made some notes, but did not daredo so, and so she fixed the details in her mind.

'The Little Fathers apartments seem very spacious,' Annaremarked carelessly, as though she meant nothing.

'Oh yes,' said Catherine; 'but they are all to bereconstructed, and removed from the after-part of the vessel,where they are now.'

Anna's dark eyes opened wide, and her ears were allalertness.

'Indeed! Why?'

'Well, they are in the extreme stern of the ship now; and asthe vessel pitches very much, they are not comfortable:

'Then, where are the Czar's rooms to be placed?' asked Annaeagerly.

'A large deckhouse is to be constructed amidships. It will befitted up like a little palace.'

'Ah! umph! I understand,' Anna muttered thoughtfully. 'Then Isuppose that is where the rooms will be?' and she placed herfinger in the centre of the plan.

'Yes.'

Catherine made a movement to remove the weights from thecorners of the paper, when Anna exclaimed:

'Stop a minute. I just want to look at something. All right.Thanks. It's most interesting. I wish I were a rich person, thatI could have a steam-yacht like that, and go where I liked.'

'You should marry an emperor; then you would have all youcould desire,' said Catherine with a laugh, as she rolled thedraft plan up and restored it to the safe.

'No; I wouldn't be an empress if I had the chance,' Annareplied tartly. 'Kings, queens, emperors, empresses, and thelike, are all tyrants. There should be no crowned heads. I don'tbelieve in 'em. They are a curse to the world.'

'Anna, you surprise me!' said Catherine with a frightenedlook. 'I knew you were peculiar, and held remarkable views, but Ihad no idea you were disloyal.'

'Hadn't you, dear?' answered Anna, with a laugh. 'Well, well,don't take me too seriously, you know. I say some queer thingssometimes.'

Then, suddenly throwing her arms round her friend's neck, shekissed her on both cheeks and sped out of the room.

* * * * *

THE scene changes. In what is known as the St. Petersburgquarter, which is situated on the north side of the Neva, is anold and lofty house, not unlike some of the old buildings inEdinburgh.

The house is let out in tenements, and there is a common stairfor the use of all the tenants, who for the most part are workingmen, artisans, and the like. At the very top of the building,immediately under the tiles, is a long room with a slanting roof.In this room three men are at work, busily at work, though it isthe dead of night. They carry on their work by lamplight.

Two are seated at a bench, which is covered with amiscellaneous lot of tools—pliers, small hammers, pincers,files, tiny saws, screw-drivers, chisels of various shapes,punches, etc. There are also sets of mathematical instruments;and before the men are carefully-prepared diagrams and drawingsto scale, and to these the men make constant reference.

They are fitting together an ingenious and clever piece ofmechanism in a small oblong box, lined with tin, and divided intocompartments. It is a sort of clockwork arrangement they areengaged upon, and it is intended that the motive power of thismechanism shall be a noiseless spring, acting on a solid brass,notched wheel. In the rim of this wheel are forty-eight notches.The wheel can be made to revolve slowly or quickly, as may bedesired. As the wheel revolves, every time a notch reaches agiven point, mathematically determined, a tiny, but powerful,steel lever drops into it, and this causes a steel rod, somethinglike a miniature shaft of a screw-steamer, to advance at rightangles with the wheel towards a partition at the end of thebox.

When this rod or shaft has been pushed forward a stage, thelever rises again, until the next notch is reached, when the samething occurs, and the rod gets a little nearer to the partition,in which, immediately facing the point of the rod, is a circularhole corresponding in circumference to the rod itself, so thatultimately the rod must pass through the hole into a recessbetween the partition and the end of the box.

The object of this will presently be seen. The two men, whoare evidently skilled mechanics of a high class, are both young.Neither of them has yet numbered thirty years.

A third man is engaged in a totally different occupation. Heis an old man, tall and thin, with a grave, professional face,small, keen eyes, and a high forehead. He is dressed in a long,dark blouse, and wears a black silk skull-cap. He has a squaretable before him in the centre of the room; on it are retorts,crucibles, phials, mortars, and pestles.

In a retort, beneath which burns a spirit-lamp, he iscompounding something from which most obnoxious vapours arise,but immediately above is a skylight, which is open to give egressto the fumes.

The man watches the retort anxiously and nervously, and everyfew minutes he plunges a small thermometer into the boilingliquid, and then, withdrawing it, reads by the light of an Argandlamp what the figures indicate. At last he suddenly extinguishesthe flame of the spirit, utters a sigh of relief, and straightenshis aching back. As he does so, one of the two young men turnstowards him, and says:

'Well, Professor, have you finished?'

'Yes, thank God, I have, and I am glad.'

It seemed like blasphemy that he should have thanked God,having regard to the deadly objects of his work. But the phrasewas either uttered carelessly, or he was a fanatic who believedthat what he was doing was blessed of Heaven.

Presently there were three light taps on the door. The menpaused in their labours and listened. Then the Professor advancednoiselessly to the door, and gave three raps himself.

This was followed from outside by two quick raps, then twodeliberate ones. Instantly on receiving this signal the professorturned the key, opened the door, and admitted a man, who wore alarge cloak, which, on entering the room, he threw off', and ahandsome, striking young man was revealed, with a strongly-markedface, and a well-shaped head covered with dark, curly hair.

It was a face full of intellectuality. The mouth, which wasshaded by a carefully-trimmed moustache, was well shaped, but thelower jaw was heavy, and destroyed the general symmetry of thefeatures. His eves were almost coal-black, restless, and full offire. They indicated an intense nervous energy.

There was something—it is really difficult to defineit— about the man's whole appearance which suggested themasterful, commanding spirit—the leader of men. And when hespoke, the full, resonant voice, the rich, decisive tones,accentuated and emphasized this something, and proclaimed that hewas one to be feared, to be obeyed. Peter Treskin—that washis name—was in every way a remarkable man. And even at thepresent day there are parts of Russia where he is referred towith sorrow, and spoken of with reverence.

Peter Treskin came of good family. He was intended for thelaw, and had studied hard and acquired an immense amount ofgeneral knowledge. But somehow he had been attracted to a set ofmalcontents, who were for revolutionizing everything andeverybody.

They believed, or fancied they believed, which was much thesame thing, that it was their mission to set the world right; toalter this and change that, to pull down thrones and set up theirown forms of government, which would be so perfect, so just, soequitable, that every human wrong and every human sorrow would bedone away with.

It was the Utopian dream of lotus-eaters; but fools havedreamed it through all time; they will go on dreaming it untiltime closes, and instead of ending sorrow, they will, as theyhave ever done, increase it manifold.

However, these men thought differently, and Peter Treskin'svanity was gratified, his ambition found a channel, his fierydisposition a means of satisfying it; and as he never playedsecond fiddle to anyone, he was raised to a height, from which hecommanded.

In other words, he became the head of a vast conspiracy whichhad for its object the destruction of the rulers who then ruled.In short, Peter, at the head of a mob, so to speak, opposedhimself to the constituted forces of law and order.

It is true those forces were not what they might, and perhapsought to, have been. They were stern, in many ways oppressive, insome respects unjust, and often ungenerous; but Peter Treskin'smethods were not calculated to change them.

It was astonishing, however, how he was enabled to enlistclever and intellectual men of all sorts and conditions under hisbanner, which, figuratively speaking, was inscribed with one wordof ghastly import—Revolution!

'Well, friends, how does the work go on?' he asked, as heentered the room, wiped his perspiring forehead with hishandkerchief, and then, with a quick, nervous touch, rolled acigarette and lit it.

'We've nearly finished,' answered one of the two men. 'By to-morrow night the machine will be ready.'

'Good! excellent! bravo? said Treskin. 'And you,Professor?'

'My part is also nearly completed. It has been a dangerousoperation, but will be successful.'

The man who spoke was Professor Smolski, a clever chemist,whose researches and knowledge, if properly applied, might havebeen of immense benefit to the world, and have earned him a nichein the gallery of worthies. But he had ranged himself on the sideof the malcontents, and for the sake of his craze he was willingto sacrifice the prospects of fame, if not fortune, and to runthe almost certain risk of a shameful death. Truly human natureis a mystery.

The other two men were brothers—Jews, Isaac and JacobEisenmann. They were born in Russia, but their parents had fledfrom Germany to avoid persecution, though, in flying from thehornets, they had encountered the wasps; that is to say, they hadfound no peace in Russia. They had been oppressed, persecuted,harried, and their offspring had vowed vengeance. Isaac and Jacobwere sworn foes of the Government. They were clever mechanics,and their cleverness was used to build up a destructiveinstrument of death, contrived with devilish ingenuity anddiabolical cunning.

These men represented a large party, which included women aswell as men; but Treskin was the head, the leading light, theimpelling spirit. His influence, his restless energy, hisambition, his vanity, made him one of the most dangerous men inall Russia. He seemed able by some extraordinary power hepossessed of swerving men from the paths of rectitude into thetortuous ways of crime. He led women like lambs to the slaughter;he bent even strong men to his will.

Strangely enough, however, up to the time that he is broughtunder the readers notice, he had managed to escape falling undersuspicion. It is difficult to say what this immunity was due to;possibly some superior cunning, some extraordinary cautiousness.But whatever it was, Peter was not wanting in courage, and wasquite ready to take his share of risk.

His co-conspirators now proceeded to explain to him the resultof their labours and their ingenuity. The empty recess at the endof the mechanical box was to be filled with a novel preparationcontaining a latent explosive power of immense force. This latentpower, however, could only be aroused into activity by thecombination of a chemical fluid, and in order to bring thisabout, the mechanism had been arranged with wonderful precisionand cleverness. Professor Smolski had produced the necessaryfluid, and the two Jews had, between them, constructed themachinery. At the end of the rod or shaft already described aglass tube, hermetically sealed, would be attached by fittinginto a socket. As the rod was advanced by the revolving notchedwheel, which could be set to do its work in one hour or forty-eight, the glass tube would ultimately be thrust through the holein the partition, where, coming in contact with an opposing rigidbar of iron, it would break, and then instantly something like acataclysm would follow.

This, of course, only describes the machine in rough outline,and that is all that is intended to be done. Those who arecurious to learn the details of the strange instrument of deathand destruction will find drawings of it preserved in the policearchives of St. Petersburg. It was, at the time, the most perfectand certain thing of its kind that man's devilishness had beenable to create. And in some respects it is doubtful if it hasbeen improved upon up to the present day.

Four o'clock was striking when Peter Treskin stole forth fromthat reeking den of evil designs, and made his way into thesweet, fresh air. Overhead the stars burned with an effulgencyonly seen in a Northern climate. Peace and silence reigned in thesleeping city. The clear, pellucid waters of the Neva glistenedand glinted as they flowed to the sea, emblematic of the Streamof Time, which silently but surely sweeps all men into the greatocean of eternity, and obliterates even their memory.

Man's life is a little thing indeed when compared with thestupendousness of Time and Eternity. The bright stars shine, therivers roll for ever; but man is born to-day; to-morrow he isdust and forgotten. No such feeling or sentiment, however,stirred Peter Treskin's emotion as he hurried along to hislodgings. He was elated, nevertheless, and full of a fierce,wicked joy, for his designs seemed to be going well. He had thatnight seen the completion, or almost the completion, of aninstrument of destruction which was calculated and intended tostrike terror into the hearts of tyrants, and he even believedthat the hour was at hand when constituted power and authority,as it then existed, would he shattered into the dust, and fromits ruins a new order of things would arise, in which he wouldfigure as a supreme ruler.

Fools have dreamed these dreams before, and awakened with thecurses of their fellow-men ringing in their ears; and then,having died a shameful death, have been thrust, unhonoured andunwept, into a nameless grave. But Treskin was not disturbed byany gloomy forebodings, and having reached his lodgings, hehurried to bed.

* * * * *

THE scene shifts once more, and shows us Kronstadt, a busy,thriving seaport, arsenal, and naval and military town, at thehead of the Gulf of Finland, exactly thirty-one miles west fromSt. Petersburg. The town is built on an island, and is sostrongly fortified that it is called the 'Malta of the Baltic.'The greater portion of the Imperial navy assembles here, andthere are armour and appliances, not only for repairing vessels,but building men-of-war. There are three great harbours. Two areused exclusively for the Imperial ships, and the third is ageneral harbour capable of accommodating seven hundred vessels.In the winter no trade with the outer world is carried on, owingto the ice; but during the summer months the flags of variousnationalities may be seen, but by far the largest number offoreign vessels visiting Kronstadt sail under the Britishflag.

At this place, one summer afternoon, a man and woman arrived,and made their way to a tavern near the entrance to the generalharbour. The woman was young, good-looking, very dark, but herfeatures wore a careworn expression, and she seemed to glanceabout her with a nervous fear, as though she was in dread ofsomething. The man was of middle height; he had an iron-graybeard and iron-gray hair. Judging from his grayness, he wasadvanced in years; but his step was firm, his eyes, which werevery dark, were the eyes of youth—they were restless andfull of fire. He carried a leather hand-bag, which he depositedon a chair beside him as he and the woman seated themselves at atable outside of the tavern and ordered refreshment, which wasserved by the tavern-keeper himself. The stranger got intoconversation with the landlord, and asked him many questions.

'Where is the Little Fathers yacht, the North Star,lying?' he asked.

'Out there, moored to that big buoy. You will see she has theImperial flag flying.' As he spoke, the landlord pointed to theoutside of the harbour, where a large steam-yacht, painted white,was moored. A thin film of smoke was issuing from her funnels,and a little wreath of steam from her steam-pipes. 'She has beenoutside into the roadstead this morning to adjust her compasses.I see a bargeload of stores has just gone off to her.'

'At what hour will the Imperial party arrive tomorrow?'

'They are timed, I understand, to be here at nine o'clock,'said the landlord.

'The Czar is a stickler for punctuality, isn't he?' asked thestranger.

'Yes. I understand he is seldom behind time if he can help it.Well, his Majesty will have a good trip, I hope. The weatherpromises to be fine. God protect him!'

'She is a fine yacht, is the North Star, Isuppose?'

'Splendid! Magnificent! I once had the honour of going onboard by the courtesy of one of the officers, who gave me anorder. But she was laid up then, and partly dismantled. Now wouldbe the time to see her, when she is all ready for the LittleFather's reception. But that is impossible. No one not connectedwith the vessel would he allowed on board.'

The stranger smiled, as he remarked:

'I am not connected with the vessel, and yet I am going onboard.'

'You are!' cried the host in astonishment. 'Impossible!'

'By no means impossible. I have official business.'

'Oh, well, of course, that's another thing. Well, I envyyou.'

When the landlord had gone about his affairs, the girl said toher companion, speaking in low tones:

'You are a fool to talk about your intentions in that way. Youare simply directing attention to yourself.'

'Tut! hold your tongue! What does it matter? There is nothingto fear from this thick-headed publican.'

'But you ought to be more careful—you ought indeed,'urged the girl tearfully. 'You are far too reckless. Remember thetremendous risks you are running—we are running—forif you sacrifice yourself you sacrifice me too.'

'Are you beginning to funk?' asked the man irritably.

'No. But there is no reason why the risks should be madegreater than they are. We have a great task to accomplish, andevery possible caution should be exercised.'

'Well, now what have I done that is wrong?' demanded the manangrily.

'You told the landlord you were going on board the yacht. Itwas foolish to do that. You drew attention to yourself.'

'Possibly you are right—possibly you are right,' hercompanion returned thoughtfully. 'It was a little bit of vanityon my part, but it slipped out. However, all will be well. Ourplans are so well laid it is impossible for them tomiscarry.'

'Nothing is impossible; nothing should be counted upon ascertain until it is accomplished,' the girl said.

'You are a nice sort of Job's comforter. Do, for goodness'sake, keep quiet!' answered the man snappishly. He was evidentlyin a highly nervous state, and very irritable. 'Well, I must go.Be sure, now, that you don't stir from here until I return.'

'I understand,' said the girl. 'But, remember, the suspensewill be awful. Don't be away from me a minute longer than you canhelp.'

He promised that he would not. Then, taking up his hand-bag,he embraced his companion and went out. Making his way down tothe quay, he hired a boat, and instructed the boatman to row himto the Imperial yacht.

On reaching the vessel, he was challenged by the sentry onduty at the gangway, and he replied that he had come on officialbusiness, and had a Government order. Whereupon he was allowed toget on to the lower grating of the steps, where an officer cameto him, and he produced a Government document, stamped with theofficial seal, and setting forth that his name was Ivan Orloff,that he was one of the naval clockmakers, and had been sent downto adjust all the clocks on board the North Starpreparatory to the Czar's arrival. Such an order could not begainsaid, so he was admitted on board, but an armed sailor wastold off' to accompany him about the ship, and show him where thevarious clocks were situated. There were a good many clocks, asevery officer had one in his cabin.

The man came at last to the Czars suite of apartments in thenewly-constructed deck-house. The sailor paused at the entranceto cross himself before a sacred picture that hung on thebulkhead, but Orloff pushed on, and, passing beneath costly andmagnificent curtains, he reached the Czars sleeping-cabin, whichwas a dream of splendour. With quick, hurried movements he tookfrom his bag an oblong box, turned a handle on an index dial, andplaced the box beneath the royal bed. He scarcely had time torecover his position, and get to a chest of drawers on whichstood a superb clock, when the sailor entered, and saidgruffly:

'You ought to have waited for me.'

'Em in a hurry, friend,' said Orloff. 'I want to get my workfinished and return to St. Petersburg to-night.'

As he lifted the glass shade off' the clock, his handstrembled and his face was as white as marble, but the sailor didnot notice it.

Half an hour later Orloff had completed his task, and took hisdeparture, and landing once more on the quay, he made his way tothe tavern and joined the girl.

'Have you succeeded?' she asked anxiously.

'Yes. But a sailor kept guard over me, and I was afraid theplan would have miscarried; I racked my brains trying to find anexcuse for freeing myself from him. But fortune favoured me. Hestopped to mumble a prayer before an ikon, and I seized theopportunity to get into the Tsar's bed-chamber, where I plantedthe machine. It is set for thirty-three hours, and will go offto-morrow night when the Tsar has retired to his couch.' The girllooked frightened, and said nervously: 'Well, let us leave here,and get back without a moment's delay.'

'Don't worry yourself, my child; there is plenty of time. I amgoing to dine first.'

He ordered dinner for two and half a bottle of vodkabeforehand by way of an appetizer, and, having drunk prettyfreely, he and the girl strolled out while the dinner was beingprepared.

It was a glorious evening. The sun was setting. The heavenswere dyed with crimson fire. In the clear atmosphere the mastsand rigging of the vessels stood out with a sharpness ofdefinition that was remarkable. There was no wind. The water ofthe gulf was motionless.

Suddenly there was a tremendous shock as if a great gun hadbeen fired, and in a few moments a cry arose from a hundredthroats that something had happened on board the Imperial yacht.The air about her was filled with splinters of wood. Men could beseen running along her decks in a state of great excitement, andshe appeared to be heeling over to the starboard side. 'Herboilers have burst,' cried the people, as they rushed pell-mellto the quay, while from all parts of the harbour boats werehurriedly making their way to the North Star, as it wasthought that she was foundering.

THE SECOND ACT. THE UNRAVELLING OF THE PLOT

WHEN the explosion on board the Imperial yachtoccurred, Orloff and the girl were strolling along one of thequays which commanded a full view of the harbour, and, attractedby the tremendous report, they turned their eves seaward tobehold a dense column of vapourish smoke rising upwards, andwreckage of all kinds filling the air. The girl staggered, andreeled against her companion, and he, clapping his hand suddenlyto his forehead, exclaimed:

'My God! what have I done? The machine has gone off before itstime. I must have set the index wrong.'

The excitement both on shore and in the harbour wastremendous, otherwise Orloff and the woman would surely havedrawn attention to themselves by the terror and nervousness theydisplayed.

'We are lost! we are lost!' wailed the woman.

At this the man seemed to suddenly recover his self-possession.

'Peace, fool!' he muttered savagely between his teeth. 'We arenot lost.'

He glanced round him anxiously for some moments; then, seeinga boat containing a solitary boatman about to put off from thequay, he said hurriedly to his companion, 'Stop here for a littlewhile; I will return shortly.'

She was so dazed and stupefied that she made no attempt tostop him, and he hurried away, rushed down a flight of stonesteps, and hailed the boatman.

After a few words of haggling and bargaining, Orloff spranginto the little craft and the boatman rowed rapidly out towardsthe North Star.

The girl waited and waited in a fever of anxiety andimpatience. She paced the quay—up and down, up and down. Toand fro she went. Her face was as white as bleached marble. Herdark flashing eyes bespoke the fear she felt. Her hands openedand shut spasmodically from the extreme nervous tension shefelt.

All the light of day faded out of the sky. A blood-red streakdid linger in the western sky for a time, but was suddenlyextinguished by the black robe of Night. The girl still paced thequay, but Orloff did not return. She heard the gossip of peopleas they returned to the shore from the harbour, and from this shegathered that the Imperial yacht had been partially destroyed,and many lives had been lost. The prevailing opinion was that themischief was due to the bursting of a boiler.

Unable longer to endure her misery, the girl went back to thetavern. The landlord came to her, and asked if she had been offto the wreck.

'No,' she answered. 'My husband has gone. It's an awfulbusiness, isn't it? They say the boiler of the steamer blew up,and that there have been many lives lost.'

'I heard that half the crew are killed,' said the landlord.'God be praised that the accident occurred before our LittleFather arrived! It's a Providential escape.'

'Yes,' answered the girl sullenly.

The landlord asked her if she Mould have dinner, as it was allready. She replied that she would wait for her husband. She dranksome vodka, however, to steady her nerves, and smoked acigarette.

Presently she went forth again, and paced the quay, going backto the tavern after a time to learn that Orloff had not returned.It was then a little after nine. And as the last train to St.Petersburg started at half-past nine, she settled the bill at thetavern, and, taking the leather bag with her, hurried to thestation and got back to town. She was full of nervousapprehension, and puzzled to account for the strangedisappearance of Orloff. Had he deserted her? Had he beenapprehended? The suspense was horrible. It almost drove hermad.

When the news of the disaster on board the Czar's yachtreached St. Petersburg, the consternation was tremendous, and aspecial train hi led with Government officials, including MichaelDanevitch, started at once for Kronstadt to investigate theaffair on the spot.

Several bodies had been recovered and brought on shore. Theywere laid out in a shed on the quay. The shed was lighted by oil-lamps, and their feeble glimmer revealed a ghastly sight. Thebodies were all more or less mutilated. Some were unrecognisable.There were nine altogether, including the chief officer and thechief engineer.

The captain arrived with the Government officials. He had beenin town, and was to have travelled down the next day in theEmperor's suite.

In mustering his ship's company, he found that twenty-threewere missing altogether. Nine of that number were lying in theshed. The rest were being searched for by boats. Several wererecovered, but some drifted out with the currents and were seenno more.

Investigations soon proved that the destruction was not due tothe bursting of a boiler. The boilers were intact. The cause ofthe disaster, therefore, was a mystery, until somebody on board,having recovered his presence of mind after the dreadful shock,referred to the visit of the Government clock-winder.

That sounded suspicious. As far as the officials knew, no onehad been sent down to wind the clocks. But still, as the fellowhad come furnished with Government-stamped credentials, it wasprobably all right.

Owing, however, to some strange oversight or stupid blunder,nothing could be ascertained then, as no one was at thetelegraph-office in St. Petersburg to receive messages, and sothe night wore itself out, and many hours' start was given toOrloff and his co-conspirators.

During this time Danevitch was not idle. He knew, perhapsbetter than anyone else, how the Emperor was encompassed roundabout with enemies who sought his destruction, and the wilydetective smelt treason in the air.

Although it was night, Kronstadt kept awake, for people weretoo excited to sleep, and a messenger was despatched to St.Petersburg on an engine, whose driver was ordered to cover thedistance in an hour—a fast run for Russia. The messengerwas furnished with a description of Orloff— at this time itwas not known that a woman had been with him; it will beremembered she did not go on board —and was told to losenot a moment in circulating that description.

Then Danevitch began inquiries on his own account inKronstadt. From the survivors on board the yacht he ascertainedat what time Orloff went on board; an hour and a half before hepresented himself a train had arrived from St. Petersburg.

He had probably arrived by that train. The boatman who tookhim off to the yacht was found. He said the supposed clock-windercarried a black bag with him both going and coming.

After his return to the shore only two trains left for St.Petersburg. By neither of those trains did he travel, so far ascould be ascertained.

The sailor who had been told off to accompany Orloff over thevessel was amongst the missing; but it was gathered that when theclock-winder had gone the sailor mentioned to some of hiscompanions that he had been much annoyed by the stranger rushingforward to the Emperors bed-chamber, while he (the sailor) wasmumbling a prayer before an ikon (sacred picture) which hung atthe entrance.

When he got into the room, he noticed that the stranger waspale and flurried, as if he had received a shock. Those who heardthe story thought the sailor's imagination had run away with him,and so no importance or significance was attached to what hesaid.

The destructive force of the explosion on board the NorthStar had been tremendous. Not only had the whole of theCzar's rooms been completely destroyed, but a large section ofthe ship's decks and bulwarks had been shattered, and one of herplates started, so that the water came in so fast that the pumpshad to be kept going, while preparations were made to tow herinto the docks, for her own engines being damaged, they would notwork.

Soon after six in the morning, the engine that had been sentto the capital returned and brought some more officials. Theystated that, from inquiries made, no one by the name of Orloffhad been sent down to regulate the clocks on board the Czar'syacht.

All the clocks on board the Imperial fleet were kept in orderby contract, and no special warrant had been supplied to anybodyof the name of Orloff.

This information made it clear that a dastardly conspiracy wasat work, and it was easy to surmise that the explosion on boardthe yacht was premature. The intention evidently was that itshould take place after the Czar had embarked; but the cowardlywretches, by some blundering, had allowed their mine to go offtoo soon, and though many innocent people had been sacrificed,and immense damage done to valuable property, the life of theEmperor had been spared.

It was not long before Danevitch found out that the mancalling himself Orloff, and a female companion, had put up at atavern near the quay, and the landlord gave all the informationhe could.

He stated that Orloff told him he was going on board thevessel, and started off for that purpose, leaving the womanbehind him. He returned later, and ordered dinner, and then heand the woman went off again for a stroll.

After the explosion the woman returned alone, and hurried awayby herself, taking the black bag with her, to catch the lasttrain.

This was instructive, but it was also puzzling. It wasestablished that the woman did go up by the last train, but notOrloff. What had become of him?

Danevitch took measures to have every outlet from Kronstadtwatched. Then he set off for St. Petersburg. In reasoning thematter out, it was clear to him that several, perhaps many,persons had had a hand in the conspiracy.

The infernal machine carried on board the North Star bythe man calling himself Orloff was hardly likely to be the workof one man. Any way, a woman was mixed up in the business.

The official document that Orloff had presented was written onGovernment paper, and it bore the Government seal. The officer ofthe North Star who had examined it before admitting thepseudo-clock-regulator, and who was amongst those who escapedwithout hurt from the explosion, testified to that.

Such being the case, and the order being written on what wasknown as 'Admiralty' paper, it followed that it must have beenstolen from the Admiralty office. It struck Danevitch that thethief was probably a female employee in the Admiralty Palace, andthat it was she who accompanied Orloff to Kronstadt.

This was a mere surmise, but it seemed feasible, and withDanevitch all theories were worth testing. Whoever it was, in thehurry of leaving the tavern at that town she had left behind hera glove.

It was a black silk-thread glove, ornamented at the back withsprigs worked in white silk. With this glove in his possession,Danevitch proceeded to the Admiralty Palace. But as soon as hearrived he learnt that Miss Catherine Snell had made a statementabout Anna Plevski having visited Room 12 and requested to lookat the plans of the North Star.

Anna was at once confronted with Danevitch. Asked where shehad been the night before, she replied indignantly, 'At home, ofcourse.'

Did she know a person named Orloff? No, she did not. Why didshe go to Catherine Snell and ask her to show her the plans ofthe North Star? Simply to gratify her curiosity, nothingelse. She was next asked if she had worn gloves the day previous.She replied that she had. What sort were they? Kid gloves, sheanswered. Had she those gloves with her? No; she had left them athome, and had come to the office that morning without gloves.

After a few more inquiries she was allowed to return to herduties, but was kept under strict surveillance, while poorCatherine Snell was suspended for dereliction of duty.

In the meantime Danevitch proceeded to Anna's lodgings, and asearch there brought to light the fellow to the glove left in thetavern at Kronstadt. It had been thrown carelessly by the girl onthe top of a chest of drawers. This glove was a damning piece ofevidence that Anna had accompanied Orloff to Kronstadt the daybefore, and that established, it was a logical deduction that shehad stolen the stamped paper on which he had written, or causedto be written, the order which had gained him admission on boardof the North Star. All this, of course, was plain sailing.Catherine Snell's statement had made matters easy so far. Butthere was a good deal more to be learnt, a great deal to besifted before the truth would be revealed.

When a person in Russia is suspected of crime, the law givesthe police tremendous power, and there are few of the formalitiesto be gone through such as are peculiar to our own country; andin this instance Danevitch was in a position to do almostabsolutely whatever he thought fit and proper to do.

The finding of the glove carried conviction to his mind thatAnna Plevski was mixed up in this new plot for the destruction ofthe Emperor. So, without any ceremony, he proceeded to rummageher boxes and drawers for further evidence. The want of keys didnot deter him; chisels and hammers answered the same purpose. Hissearch was rewarded with a bundle of letters. These were hastilyscanned; they were all, apparently, innocent enough; the majorityof them were love letters. A few of these were signed 'PeterTreskin'; the rest simply bore the initial 'P.' There was nothingin any of these letters calculated to cause suspicion, with theexception of the following somewhat obscure passage in a letterwritten a few days before the explosion:

'The time is at hand when your faith and love will be put to agreat test. The serious business we have in hand is reaching acritical stage, and success depends on our courage, coolness, anddetermination. You and I must henceforth walk hand-in-hand tothat supreme happiness for which we have both toiled. We loveeach other. We must unite our destinies in a bond that can onlybe severed by death.'

Having learnt so much, Danevitch once more confronted Anna.She confessed she had a lover named Peter Treskin; they hadquarrelled, however, and he had gone away; but she knew not wherehe had gone to, and she did not care if she never saw himagain.

'Perhaps you will be able to remember things better in adungeon,' suggested Danevitch, as he arrested Anna, and handedher over to the care of a gendarme.

She turned deathly white, but otherwise appeared calm andcollected, and declared that she was the victim of a grossoutrage, for which everyone concerned would be made tosuffer.

Danevitch's next move was to go to Treskin's lodgings. Hefound that gentleman had been absent for three days. Here also asearch was made for compromising papers. A good many letters fromAnna Plevski were brought to light. They all breathed the mostardent love and devotion for the man; and the writer declaredthat she could not live a day without him, that for his sake shewas prepared to peril her sold. But there were otherletters— love letters—written to Treskin by a womanwho signed herself Lydia Zagarin. This person not only betrayedby her writing that she was desperately, madly in love withTreskin also, but from her statements and expressions it wasobvious that he had carried on an intrigue with her, and was asmuch in love with her as she was with him. She wrote from a placecalled Werro, in the Baltic provinces. Danevitch took possessionof these letters, and continued his search, during which he cameacross a slip of paper which bore the printed heading, 'TheTechnical School of Chemistry, St. Petersburg.' On it was writtenthis line:

Yes, I think I shall succeed.—Smolski.

Apparently there was not much in this, but what there waswas quite enough for Danevitch under the circ*mstances, and hehad Professor Smolski arrested. It was a summary proceeding, butin times of excitement in Russia anyone may be arrested who maypossibly turn out to be a guilty person. It is not necessary thatthere should be a shadow of a shade of evidence of guilt in thefirst instance; it is enough that there is a possibility of thepolice being right. But if they are wrong what does it matter?The person is released, and the police are not blamed. Danevitch,however, did not often go wrong in this respect; and in thisinstance, Smolski being a Professor in the Technical School ofChemistry, there were probabilities that he might be able toafford some valuable information respecting Treskin.

Smolski was one of those extraordinary types of men who,having conceived a certain thing to be right, are willing to riskfame, fortune, life itself, for the sake of their opinions.Smolski was undoubtedly a gentle, high-minded man; neverthelesshe believed that the ruler of his country was a tyrant; that hiscountrymen were little better than slaves, whose social andpolitical rights were ignored; that the ordinary means—suchas are familiar to more liberally-governed countries—beinguseless to direct attention to their wrongs, violent measureswere justified, and the removal of the tyrant would be acceptablein God's sight. Holding these views—and though he was afamily man and one respected and honoured—Smolski hadallied himself with a band of arch-conspirators, whose head wasPeter Treskin. He was calm, dignified, and collected under hisarrest, and when he was interrogated, in accordance with Russianlaw, by a judge of instruction, he frankly admitted that he hadbeen concerned in an attempt to bring about a better form ofgovernment; but he steadfastly refused to denounce any of hisaccomplices. He could die bravely, as became a man, but no oneshould say he was a traitor.

All this would have been admirable in a nobler cause; as itwas, he simply proved that he had allowed his extreme views toblind him to the difference between legitimate constitutionalagitation and crime—crime that, whether committed in thename of politics or not, was murder, and an outrage against God'sordinance. Smolski, in common with most men, neglected the saferule that letters should be destroyed when they are calculated tocompromise one's honour or betray one's friends. And thus it cameabout that when the Professor's papers were examined, not onlywere Isaac and Jacob Eisenmann brought into the police net, butmany others; and in a diary he had kept there was a record of hisexperiments with the deadly compound which was destined to blowthe monarch of the Empire into eternity, but which, owing to anaccident or a blunder, had failed in its object so far as theCzar was concerned, though it had cruelly cut short the lives ofmany hard-working and worthy men. Under any circ*mstances, evenif the Czar had been involved in the destructive influences ofthe infernal machine, many others must have perished with him.Such conspirators never hesitate to destroy nine hundred andninety-nine inoffensive people if they can only reach thethousandth against whom they have a grievance.

Piece by piece the whole story as set forth in the first partof this chronicle was put together, and the plot laid bare; butthough many had been brought under the iron grip of the law, thearch-conspirator, to whose ruling spirit and genius the plot wasdue, was still at large, and no trace of him was at that timeforthcoming; but Danevitch did not despair of hunting him down,of bringing him to his doom. And no one whose mind was notdistorted could say his life was not forfeited. His whole careerhad been one of plotting and deceit. His commanding presence andmasterful mind had given him such an influence over many of thosewith whom he came in contact—especially women—that hehad proved himself more than ordinarily dangerous, while hisreckless and cowardly wickedness in carrying the infernal machineon board the Czars yacht, and thereby causing the sudden andcruel death of something like two dozen people, stamped him atonce as a being against whom every honest man's hand should beraised.

In the meantime, while Danevitch was trying to get a clue toTreskin's whereabouts, his co-conspirators—they might trulybe described as his dupes—were tried, found guilty,condemned, and executed. Smolski, the two Eisenmanns, and fourothers, were ignominiously hanged in the presence of an enormouscrowd. Smolski met his end with a perfect resignation, a calmindifference. He firmly believed he was suffering in a goodcause. He died with the words 'Khrista radi!' (ForChrist's sake) upon his lips. He posed as a martyr.

Anna Plevski had been cast for Siberia, but before startingupon the terrible journey, the prospects of which were moreappalling than death, she would have to spend many months in anoisome dungeon in the Russian Bastile, Schlusselburg, in LakeLadoga.

But a circ*mstance presently arose which altered her fate.Danevitch had kept his eye on Lydia Zagarin, of Werro. He foundshe was the daughter of a retired shipmaster, who had purchased alittle property in the small and pleasantly-situated town ofWerro. He was a widower. Lydia was his only daughter. On herfather's death she would succeed to a modest fortune. Treskin hadborrowed money from her, and it was probable that he had singledher out from his many female acquaintances as one to whom hewould adhere on account of her money. Four months after thefateful day when the Czar's yacht was partially destroyed andmany people were killed, Treskin wrote to this young woman,renewing his protestations of regard for her, and asking her tosend him money, and to join him with a view to his marryingher.

He gave his address at Point de Galle, Ceylon, where,according to his own account, he had started in business as amerchant. He stated that, though he had taken no active part inthe destruction of the North Star, he happened to be inKronstadt on the night of the crime, and as he knew he wassuspected of being mixed up in revolutionary movements, he deemedit advisable to go abroad; and so he had bribed a boatman toconvey him to a Swedish schooner which was on the point ofleaving the Kronstadt harbour on the night of the explosion, andhe bribed the captain of the schooner to convey him to the coastof Sweden. By this means he escaped. From Sweden he travelled toEngland; from England to Ceylon, where he had a cousin engaged ona coffee plantation.

This letter came into the hands of Danevitch before it reachedLydia. How that was managed need not be stated; but Danevitch nowbelieved he saw his way to capture Treskin. He knew, of course,that, as a political refugee, claiming the protection of theBritish flag, he could not be taken in the ordinary way. TheBritish flag has over and over again been disgraced by theprotection it has afforded to wretches of Treskin's type, and itwas so in this instance. To obtain his extradition was next toimpossible. He was a wholesale murderer, but claimed sanctuary inthe name of politics, and he found this sanctuary under theBritish flag.

Danevitch, however, resolved to have him, and resorted tostratagem. Tie visited Anna Plevski in her dungeon. She knewnothing at this time of the fate of her lover, though she didknow that he had not been captured. Danevitch, by skill andartifice, aroused in her that strongest of all femalepassions—jealousy. He began by telling her that Treskin haddeserted her in a cowardly and shameful manner on the night ofthe crime, and did not care whether she perished or lived. Thenhe laid before her Lydia Zagarin's letters to Treskin, which hadbeen seized at Treskin's lodgings, and he watched the effect onthe girl as she read them. Finally he showed her the letter sentfrom Ceylon.

That was the last straw. Her feelings burst from the restraintshe had tried to impose upon them, and she cursed him again andagain. She declared solemnly that she was his victim; that shewas innocent and loyal until he corrupted her, and indoctrinatedher with his revolutionary ideas. He had sworn to be true to her,and used to say they would live and die together. On the night ofthe crime he had persuaded her to go with him to Kronstadt,because he declared that he could not bear her to be out of hissight. They had arranged that on the morrow they were to quit St.Petersburg, and travel with all speed to Austrian soil. But notonly had he basely deceived her, but treacherously deserted her.She was furious, and uttered bitter regrets that she could nothope to be revenged upon him.

In this frame of mind she was left for the time. A week later,however, Danevitch once more visited her.

She was still brooding on her wrongs and her hard fate. Tosuffer Siberia for the sake of a man who had so cruelly deceivedher and blighted her young life was doubly hard.

'Would she be willing, if she had the chance, to bring him tojustice?' Danevitch asked.

Her dark eyes filled with fire, and her pale face flushed, asshe exclaimed with passionate gesture that she would do it with afierce joy in her heart, and laugh at him exultingly as he wasled to his doom.

She was told that the chance would be given to her to betrayhim into the hands of justice. She would be set free onsufferance, and allowed to proceed to Ceylon, and, provided shesucceeded in her task and was faithful to the trust reposed inher, she would, on returning to Russia, receive a full pardon,and be supplied with a considerable sum of money to enable her tolive abroad if she desired it.

In setting her free, however, in the first instance, theGovernment intended to retain a hold upon her, and to that endher youngest and favourite brother, who was an invalid, and towhom she was devoted, had been arrested on suspicion of beingmixed up with revolutionary movements. If she did not returnwithin a fixed time, the brother would be sent to the Siberianquicksilver-mines. While she was away he would be treated withevery kindness, and on her return he would be set at liberty. Hisfate therefore was in her hands. If she allowed the false loverto prevail over her she would sacrifice her brother. If, on theother hand, she was true to her trust, she would save herbrother, gratify her revenge, and be provided for for life.

She was allowed a week in which to make up her mind; but intwo days she gave her decision. She would go to Ceylon. She wouldlure Treskin to his doom. To prepare the way she wrote a letterto dictation. In it she stated that she had been tried and foundnot guilty. No sooner was she released than she had been visitedby a wretch of a woman named Lydia Zagarin, who abused herfearfully for having corresponded with Treskin, whom sheclaimed.

And in her mad passion she had disclosed his whereabouts, butvowed that she hated him, knowing that he had been false to her,and that all he wanted now was her money. Anna, however, had nosuch thoughts about him. She loved him to distraction, and couldnot live without him. She intended, therefore, to go to Ceylon;and she had managed to secure some money, which she would take tohim. She was perfectly sure, she added, that he loved her, andthat they would be very happy together.

This letter was duly despatched, and a fortnight later Annaset out on her strange mission, having first had an interviewwith her brother, though she was cautioned against telling him orany living soul where she was going to. She found him almostbroken-hearted, for he declared he was as innocent ofrevolutionary ideas as a babe unborn; but he knew that when oncea man fell into the hands of the police as a 'suspect' he hadvery little to hope for. Anna endeavoured to cheer him up bysaying she would do all that mortal could do to prove hisinnocence; and as the Government had failed to substantiate theircharge against her, she was sure they would not succeed in hiscase.

* * * * *

THE scene changes again for the final act, and shows thebeautiful island of Ceylon and the wide, sweeping bay of Point deGalle, with its splendid lighthouse, its great barrier reef, andits golden sands. Anna Plevski had landed there from a P. and O.steamer, and had been met by Treskin, who, while he declared hewas delighted to see her, showed by his manner he wasannoyed.

As a matter of fact, he hoped for Lydia Zagarin, but AnnaPlevski had come to him instead. But there was another cause forhis annoyance, as Anna soon discovered. He had a native mistress;but in a little time Anna had so far prevailed over him that heput the dusky beauty away. He had commenced in business as acommission agent and coffee merchant; but so far success had notattended his efforts. He had neither the energy, theperseverance, nor the patience necessary if one would succeed inbusiness, so that he very eagerly inquired of Anna what money shehad brought. She told him that she had not very much with her,but in a few weeks would receive a remittance. In the meantimethere was enough to be going on with. She thus won hisconfidence. Indeed, he never for a moment suspected her mission.There was nothing whatever to arouse his suspicions. It allseemed perfectly natural and he believed that under the aegis ofthe British flag he was perfectly safe. So he would have been ifDanevitch had not played such a clever move to checkmate him.

A little more than two months passed, during which Treskinknew nothing of the sword that swung above his head. Then Annacomplained of illness. She thought Point de Galle did not agreewith her; she wanted a change; she had been told that Colombo wasa very pretty place; she would like to see it; and as she hadreceived a remittance of thirty pounds they could afford thejourney. He must take her there. To this he consented, and theytravelled by gharry. It was the first step towards hisdoom. With the remittance came another letter to Anna giving hersecret instructions.

Colombo was duly reached. It was the best season. The dayswere tranquil and brilliant. The nights were wordless poems. Thethird night after their arrival Anna expressed a desire to go outin a native boat on the water. The sea was motionless. It waslike a sheet of glass. The night was glorious; a soft land-breezeblew, laden with rich scents. The heavens were ablaze with stars,and a dreamy languor seemed to pervade the delicious atmosphere.Accordingly, a native boat and two stalwart rowers were hired,and Treskin and Anna embarked. It was the second step towards hisdoom.

The boatmen pulled from the hind. The calm water and tranquilnight made rowing easy, and presently a little bamboo sail washoisted, which helped the craft along. Treskin lay back in thestern and smoked; Anna sat beside him, and sang softly snatchesof plaintive Russian airs.

When about five miles from the shore, they saw a small steamercreeping slowly along. She came close to the boat, and an Englishvoice hailed her and asked if anyone in the boat spokeEnglish.

Treskin answered. The voice then inquired if the occupant ofthe boat would kindly take some letters on shore. The captain ofthe steamer did not want to go into the port.

Treskin gladly consented, and he was asked to order hisboatmen to pull alongside the steamer, which proved to be apleasure-yacht.

Without a shadow of suspicion in his mind, Treskin did so, andhe was politely invited to step on board, a ladder being loweredfor that purpose. He turned to Anna, and asked her if she wouldgo. Of course she would. So she preceded him up the ladder.

As soon as he was on the deck the gangway was closed, and aman in uniform directed him to the little saloon, where some wineand biscuits stood on the table. The engines of the steamer werestarted, though that did not alarm him; but in a few minutes astern, determined man entered the cabin. He wore the uniform of alieutenant of the Russian Navy, and had a sword at his side.

'Peter Treskin,' he said in Russian, 'you have been cleverlylured on board this boat, which is owned by a Russian gentleman,and flies the Russian flag, in order that you may be taken backto Russia to answer for your great crime.

Treskin's face turned to an ashen grayness, and, springing tohis feet, he rushed to the door, but found his exit barred byarmed men. In another instant he was seized, and heavily ironed.He knew then that his fate was sealed, and his heart turned tolead with an awful sense of despair.

Steaming as hard as she could steam, the yacht rounded Pointde Galle, and when about fifteen miles due east of Ceylon shesuddenly stopped. A Russian gunboat was lying in wait. To thisgunboat the prisoner was transferred, but Anna remained on boardthe yacht.

The gunboat steamed away at once, and shaped her course forManila, where she coaled; and that done she proceeded under afull head of steam for the sea of Japan and Vladivostok.

The yacht went in the other direction, making for the Gulf ofAden and the Red Sea, and after a pleasant and uneventful voyageshe sailed by way of the Bosphorus to the Crimea. She made manycalls on the way, and at every port she touched at she wassupposed to be on a pleasure cruise, and Anna was looked upon asthe owner's wife.

As Anna Plevski entered Russia in the west, her false loverentered it in the far east, and thence under a strong escort hewas conducted through the whole length of Siberia to St.Petersburg, a distance of something like five thousand miles.

It is an awful journey at the best of times. In his case theawfulness was enhanced a hundredfold, for he knew that everyverst travelled placed him nearer and nearer to his shamefuldoom.

He was six months on the journey, and when he reached thecapital his hair was white, his face haggard and drawn, his eyessunken. He was an old and withered man, while the terrible strainhad affected his mind; but as he had been pitiless to others, sono pity was shown for him. He had brought sorrow, misery, andsuffering to many a home. He had made widows and orphans; he hadmaimed and killed, and he could not expect mercy in a world whichhe had disgraced.

THE DÉNOUEMENT

IT is a typical Russian winter day. The sunshines from a cloudless sky. The air is thin and transparent, thecold intense; the snow is compacted on the ground until it is ofthe consistency of iron.

On the great plain outside of St. Petersburg, where the publicexecutions take place, a grim scaffold is erected. It is anexposed platform of rough boards, from which spring two uprightposts, topped with a cross-bar, from which depends a rope with anoose.

It is the most primitive arrangement. The scaffold issurrounded with troops, horse and foot. There are nearly twothousand of them; but the scaffold is raised so high that thesoldiers do not obscure the view.

The plain is filled with a densely-packed crowd; but on oneside a lane is kept open, and up this lane rumbles a springlesscart, guarded by horsem*n with drawn swords. In the cart, on abed of straw, crouches a man, bound hand and foot. His face ishorrible—ghastly. It wears a stony expression ofconcentrated fear.

A priest sits with the man, and holds a crucifix before hiseves. But the eves appear sightless, and to be starting from thehead.

The cart reaches the foot of the ladder which leads to theplatform. The bound man is dragged out, for he is powerless tomove. He is pushed and dragged up the ladder, followed by thepriest. As soon as he reaches the platform and sees the noose, heutters a suppressed cry of horror, and shrinks away.

Pitiless hands thrust him forward again, and he is placed onsome steps; the noose is adjusted round his neck. No cap is usedto hide his awful face. At a given signal the steps are drawnaway, and the man swings in the air and is slowly strangled todeath. A great cheer rises from the crowd, but it is mingled withgroans.

Thus did Peter Treskin meet his doom. He lived like a coward;he died like a coward. He had talents and abilities that,properly directed, would have gained him high position, but hechose the wrong path, and it ended in a dog's death.

He well deserved his ignominious fate, and yet, even at thepresent day, there are some who believe he was a martyr. Butthese people may be classed amongst those who believe not, eventhough an angel comes down from heaven to teach.

THE END