IN THE NAME OF THE CZAR.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 30, Issue 23, 22 March 1918, Page 7

IN THE NAME OF THE CZAR.

By WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON, Author of “Vera Sliamarin.” “The House of Orfanoff,” &c.

(Copyright.)

, PART 5. August and September went slowly >y and gave place to October ; and now, when the scene opens on the Ihrcshhold of winter, Alexis and Pushkin were broken-hearted and well nigh hopeless. There was one crumb of comfort in their despair. By mere chance they had not been separated. They shared a ceil with another prisoner named Trolov—a degraded murderer from the Crimea. Trolov was near bis cell mates at the end of the shaft that afternoon. Side by side with Pushkin he drove I. is pick into the hard wall. Alexis was working a few feet to their left. 11, s thoughts were in the far-distant '.•.'tueseisk prison, and he wondered if Helen still lived in the hope of his promised coming. Perhaps she was dead. He clutched at his heart as though to stifle the keen anguish that thrilled him as he saw, in imagination, a rough and lonely grave unmarked by turf or stone. Trolov heaped his barrow with ore and trundled it slowly away. Pushkin, glanced after him for an instant, and then resumed work with the pick. The rock seemed to have suddenly grown soft and crumbly. At every blow he brought down- clattering heaps of loose earth.

“Strange,” he muttered. “It looks as though this shaft once ran farther in, and had ni.nce been filled up.’*’

At the next stroke his pick penetrated deeply, and the point caught on some hard, immovable obstruction. He turned the handle to right and left, and pulled with all his strength. Something suddenly gave way, and he slipped back a few inches, A current of damp air surged into his face and when he reached out his hand, it touched the upper edge of a great slab of stone. Above it was a narrow cavity, and behind it, where the pick was caught, he found only empty space as far as his arm could reach.

For a moment Pushkin stared at the wall,in front of him. Then, as coolly and deliberately as though he wore engaged on Ms ordinary work, ho pushed the slab back into place, thrust a handful of clods ; into the cavity, and heaped a dozen shovels of rubbish against the spot. This accomplished, he glanced warily around him. The other convicts were, not oven looking that way. Trolov had disappeared with his barrow, and the overseer at the mouth of the shaft was holding a surly conversation with) two Cossacks. “Comrade.” Alexis detected the eager accent of his companion’s voice. “What is it?” he asked, turning

hia .head. Pushkin took a step nearer,

“I have made a discovery,” he whispered. “I have opened a passage way that .leads to some .abandoned shaft. Don’t look now. I have closed it and covered it up again.” , “Perhaps it connects with some present working,” replied Alexis. “Not likely. No mining is being done in that direction. There are shafts there, but they were abandoned years ago.” “And suppose you are right, what good will the discovery do us? it unchain our barrows and unlock our cell doors ?”

Alexis spoke bitterly., for it was not the first time that false hopes had been roused in his heart. “Wait until to-night,” replied Pushkin. “I need time to reflect. Who knows what may happen ? Meanwhile be careful that you excite' no suspicion. The overseer is looking. To work—quick !”

They | sprang apart as a volley of curses and threats was hurled at them from the mouth of the shaft. The overseer, accustomed to such incidents, did not come any nearer, and the next Instant his attention was called to a convict who had < overturned a barrow of ore.

Alexis kept on digging at his former place, and when Trolov returned »a few moments later he succeeded in whispering a few words of warning that kept him away from the spot where the great discovery had been made.

The hours wore on by lantern light and the overseer happily'failed to observe that the three convicts at the end of the shaft were digging'at the side walls instead of the end of the gallery. Alternately they wheeled their loads of ore to the place of deposit and returned with empty barrows.

Finally came the welcome signal to stop work, and now something happened that had a special and significant meaning to Pushkin at least, if not to his comrades. As the convicts assembled at the mouth of the side shaft, one of the Coses-''.s-turned to the overseer and g ■ ', pointing towards the shaft : "Is this the last d , A work in yonder hole, Ivan Petro. i'.ch ?” ‘‘7e.i,” replied the-other, “that is the order. The ore is of poor quality and does not pay for the working. To-morrow morning a new shaft will be opened across the passage. That reminds me,” he added. “Bring the tools out, you fellows, and be quick.” There was a strange gleam on Pushkin’s face as he helped to carry the picks and shovels from the shaft and pile them on the floor of the main avenue. The task was soon completed, and the weary, toilers trudged down the passage by twos, guarded in front and rear by Costwekfl. At every turn find side shaft

they were joined by other detachments. Finally they reached a broad avenue, at the farther end of which was visible a narrow strip of the open valley, now shrouded in twilight. The sight was just enough to tantalise the poor wretches who lived underground.

The procession was quickly broken up into squada, and a few moments later Alexis and his companions were locked in their cell, which was distant about fifty feet from the mouth of the mine. They threw themselves upon the damp ground, and lay there in darkness and silence for some fame. This was their usual habit. Their daily glimpse of the outer air filled their hearts with bitter reflections and choked their voices.

At last muffled footsteps came near, and the cell door was thrown open. Two Cossacks appeared—one with a lantern, the other with a tray. The latter handed in three plates of soup and three pieces of hard, mouldy bread. Then, the iron door was closed and locked, and the prisoners were left to eat their meagre supper in darkness. They were as hungry when they finished as when they began. Trolov pushed the dishes away with a clatter.

“Well, comrades, how about this great discovery ?” he demanded. “Is there any chance of escape ? That’s the question.”

“Hush ! Even walls have ears,” whispered Pushkin. “Do you want to spoil everything at the start ?” He refused to say more until the passing and repassing of the Cossacks outside had ceased entirely, when all the prisoners had been served with supper. Even then he seemed) reluctant to speak. In truth, he was pondering some means of utilizing his! discovery without including Trolov, whose nature was such as would probably make Mm a troublesome helpmate. But he concluded, after careful reflection, that this would be impracticable.

“I am going to speak briefly,” he began at length ; “so listen sharply to what I say. In the first place, if we intend to escape at all, there is no reason why we should not make the attempt to-night.”

“To-n.ight?” exclaimed Trolov and Alexis, in surprise.

"Assuredly. We can accomplish nothing by waiting. Bach day brings winter so much the nearer. Moreover we.have a grand opportunity, and one that may be lost by delay. The opening I found this afternoon undoubtedly leads to the old mine that was abandoned years ago. Its main entrance is probably covered up., but I have heard that it has an outlet on the opposite side of the mountain. You remember what the overseer said to-night. Work on the side shaft is to be abandoned, and after we have crawled through into the old mine and carefully filled up the hole behind us the break will never be discovered. While we are miles away on our journey to freedom the Cossacks will be searching every nook and corner of the present workings. Not finding us, they will conclude that we caught some of the outer entries asleep, and slipped past them. But by that time we shall have a splendid start.” “You are beginning at the wrong end, Pushkin,” interrupted Alexis. “We are not yet out of the cell.” “Yes, that is true, comrade,” added Trolov.

“The first part of my plan being the most difficult, I left it for the last,” calmly replied Pushkin. “We must find a way out of our cell ; we must remove these clumsy barrows from our ankles ; we must have arms and alight.”

“How do you expect to break chains and locks, or cut a way through iron doors and stone walls?” exclaimed Alexis, in a tone of despair. “It will take a magician to do such things.”

“Or a regiment of Cossacks,” muttered Trolov.

“It is not so difficult as that,” replied Pushkin, “provided you obey my instructions carefully. All depends on the success of the first step. We can begin very soon, for all our fellow-prisoners are asleep by this time. When the sentry comes by on his rounds you two must pretend to be fighting. You will groan aloud and call for help. The sentry will think that Trolov is murdering one of his companions. He will open the door to interfere, and the ,instant his head appears I will seize him by the throat and drag him to the ground. You will assist me to bind and gag him. If we succeed in doing this without attracting the attention of the Cossacks on duty at the entrance of the mine, our escape will be assured.”

“It is a clever plan,” exclaimed Alexis in tones that were tremulous with joy and excitement.

"But what if the sentry summon assistance before opening the cell door ?” asked Trolov.

“We must take our chances on it,” answered Pushkin. “It is not likely that he will delay for that, since he knows that we are unarmed.” “And how about the barrows ?” asked Alexis. “The sentry does not carry the keys.” “True,” answered Pushkin, “but he has a bayonet upon his rifle, and with that we ought to be able to force a link in our chains. Remember, Trolov,’’ he added, “you are to obey me in all things, and there is to be no bloodshed, Moreover, when we gain the open air we must-separate.” “Yea, that is understood,” muttered Trolov, sulkily. “I prefer to travel alone. I shall strike south, towards the Mongolian frontier, before I turn towards Russia.”

“Alexis and I shall follow a different course,” said Pushkin. “For the present we need discuss nothing more. Let us wait in silence.” CHAPTER XIII. Nearly half an hour dragged by, and the suspense grew intolerable. It was a mad and reckless venture, and

tbe more the three convicts pondered over it the more impracticable it seemed. They were in a wavering state of indecision when the low tread of <the sentry was heard in the passage. The footsteps passed on and faded away in the deep recesses of the mine.

Pushkin sprang to his feet. “Be ready, comrades,” he whispered. “Begin the scuffle the inst Ant that I give the signal. But don’t overdo it and make too much noise.”

Carefully lifting the barrow he crept to the door. He sprawled flat on the ground and placed his eyes and one ear to the bottom crevice, wlvch was nearly an inch wide. He remained in this attitude for perhaps ten minutes.

“The sentry is on his way back nowi,” he whispered, finally. "I see, a glimmer of light flashing on the passage. Ah ! I hear footsteps ; they are coming nearer. Begin, comrades.” Trolov and Alexis instantly caught hold of each other. They rattled their chains and moved their feet about on the floor. With groans and low cries they admirably counterfeited a desperate struggle. A moment later a sharp rap was heard on the door, and a harsh voice demanded :

“What’s wrong in there ? Stop quarrelling, you dogs, or I’ll see that you get a taste of the lash in the morning.” “It ia this bloodthirsty Trolov,” replied Pushkin, who had risen to his feet, and was standing directly before the door. “He is choking my comrade, and I can’t pull him away. Help us, quick, or murder will be done !”

There was a moment of terrible suspense. Trolov uttered a ferocious snarl, and Alexis rattled his chains again. Then the key was heard to turn in the lock, and the door opened half a foot, letting a yellow glare of light into the cell. Half a rifle appeared, and a Cossack’s bearded face was poked through the gap. The guard stared round the cell. The first glimpse probably excited his suspicious, but before he could advance or retreat Pushkin had him by the throat with both hands. They came to the ground together, and a single gurgling cry escaped the sentry as his forehead struck the edge of Trolov’s barrow. He lay white and motionless, with the blood trickling slowly from the wound.

"That saves us a struggle,” murmured Pushkin. “The fellow is merely stunned, and will soon be active again. So far we have succeeded well. The next step dependt' more on chance than skill. Trolov, those arms of yours are strong. Lift your barrow in one of them, and in the other take the sentry’s lantern. There it stands, just outside the door. Pace up and down the passage, going about a dozen feet in each direction. The light can be seen from outside, and the guards will not suspect that anything is wrong.” Trolov obeyed without, a word. With apparent ease he lifted the heavy barrow under one arm. He was soon pacing the corridor, taking careful steps to prevent his chains from rattling.

Pushkin peeped out of the doorway. He could see the red glow of the camp fire at the mouth of the mine, but not a person was in sight. The night guard was always stationed on a platform half a dozen feet below the entrance, and it was impossible to see into the mine without ascending the slope. Pushkin listened a moment, and, hearing nothing alarming, turned back into the cell. He hastily went through the sentry’s pocket, and found first of all a tin box of matches. He handed this to Alexis.

“Light one at a time,” he said, “and make each last as long as possible.”

Then by the tiny blaze he hurriedly removed the prisoner’s uniform, substituting an old blouse and pair of trousers that had been lying lor weeks in a corner of the cell. "There’s no telling how long the fellow may lie here,” he explained. “I don’t want him to freeze before morning. As for this Cossack rig, it may prove of use in the future. We’ll take it along with us.” The sentry now showed signs of returning animation, and Pushkin lost no time in stuffing a wad of cloth into his mouth, and binding his arms and legs with strips'torn from an old blanket,

“Make haste," remonstrated Alexis, who was trembling with impatience. ‘ ‘lt will take time to remove these barrows.”

“I fear so,” replied Pushkin. “Don’t lose courage, comrade. Coolness and nerve are needed to carry us safely through. Keep the matches burning.” As he spoke he twisted the bayonet from the sentry’s rifle, and set to work on his own chains.

“I can release you and Trolov the better for being free myself,” he explained. “Besides, I have a link here that can be easily forced.” But it was not so easy, after all, and Pushkin strained and tugged for nearly five minutes, while Trolov paced to and fro past the cell door. Finally Pushkin uttered a sigh of relief. The chain had parted, leaving half a dozen links dangling from his ankle fetter.

“Your turn, comrade,” he muttered, as he approached Alexis with the bayonet in his hand. It is more difficult than I expected. But perhaps there is a weak spot in your chains too.”

“No ; I have looked,” replied Alexis. “But be quick !” Pushkin chose the third link from the ankle iron, and wedged the bayonet deeply in. He had hardly begun to press sideways when a loud snap was heard. The bayonet had broken in two just above the link. Alexis uttered a groan bf despair. “There goes our last hope,” he exclaimed, “We are lost, Pushkin, But I forget that you ar? free. Save your-

self while you can.” ' . ,j_ * . ' “No,” replied Pushkin; ‘‘l refuse liberty on such terms. We will escape together, or not at all. This is a serious thing, though. The bayonet is useless, and even were it whole I don’t believe I could break your chains and Trolov’s.” At that moment T.rolov paused by the door, and noted the despondent attitude of his companions.

“What is wrong?” he demanded. ‘‘Do you know that you are losing precious time ?” Pushkin briefly explained. ‘‘Well, it is serious enough,” admitted Trolov, ‘‘but it might be worse, • What is to hinder us from escaping with our -barrows ?” ‘‘lmpossible !” replied Pushkin. ‘‘ln the first place we should be compelled to dig a great hole through to the other mine-—so large that we could not fill it in skilfully enough to prevent it from being discovered. In the second place the barrows would prevent us from getting far away. .We should be captured as soon as we escaped from the mine.” “Yes ; you are right,” muttered Trolov. “Still, something must be done. lam desperate, comrades. I will die before I submit to be captured.”

His nostrils swelled and an ugly gleam came into his eyes. “There is one chance left,” declared Pushkin, after a moment’s thought. “It is a precarious one, but lam willing to try it. I mean the keys that will unlock our harrows. We must get possession of them.” Alexis stared incredulously.

“You are jesting, comrade !” exclaimed Trolov, with a harsh laugh. “No ; I mean it,” replied Pushkin. “The officer of the guard has the keys in his possession. At least, that v/as always the custom, and doubtless it is so yet. You see it sometimes happens that a convict’s ankle is so swollen and sore that the iron is taken off until morning. That is why the keys are kept within reach. But every moment is precious. Is all quiet at the end of the passage, Trolov ?’•’ “Yes ; not a Cossack in sight.” “Then go on marching up and down with your lantern. That is your duty for the present. Be ready when I need you.” Trolov would have liked to know more, but he stifled his curiosity, and returned obediently to his vigil. Pushkin hastily stripped .off his clothes. His beard bad grown in the last few months, and he did not look unlike the captured sentry, who was a man of about the same size.

“Ah, I see through your purpose now," exclaimed Alexis. “Partly, at least. You have about one chance in twenty. Still, if you are careful” “If I fail,” .interrupted Pushkin, “it will not be through stupidity.” He was now dressed in the Cossack’s uniform, from the Astrachan cap to the high boots. He hastily ran his hands through the pockets and produced a piece of tobacco and a few coinsr—roubles and kopecks.

“The money will be of service,” he muttered, “but where are his cell keys ?”

“There they are, sticking in the door,” replied Alexis, who had been steadily burning matches. “Yes ; I see them. Now tell me if that fellow has come to his senses yet.”

“His eyes are open,’’ answered Alexis, holding a match in that direction.

Pushkin walked over and knelt beside the sentry.

“I am going to give you your tongue for a moment,” he said, harshly. “If you answer my questions you will not be harmed. If you utter a single cry, I shall kill you on the spot.” The fellow was evidently a coward. He looked undeniably terrified as the gag was taken from his lips. “Has the officer of the guard the keys to the barrows?” demanded ( Pushkin.

“Yes,” came almost inaudibly from the lips of the sentry. “What is his name and rank, quick ?” "Corporal Petosky,” instantly replied the prisoner. “You are telling the truth ?” persisted Pushkin. “Remember, there will be plenty of time to kill you if we find that you are lying.” “It is the truth ; I swear it,” whispered the sentry, in a convincing tone,

Pushkin stuffed the gag back in the fellow’s mouth, and rose. Shouldering the rifle he marched to the door with a stiff, military stride. Trolov happened to pass the cell at that moment, and catching a glimpse of the tall Cossack he gave a start of terror and very nearly dropped his barrow. Pushkin smiled grimly, and beckoned him in.

“I will change places with you now,” he said. “Give me the lantern. Don’t make a sound during my absence, and burn no matches. Tear some more strips off that blanket, and be ready to help me the moment I place the lantern on the ground. That will be the signal. Watch for it.”

With these brief instructions he strode out of the cell, leaving the door half open. He took the bunch of keys from the lock and fastened them to a hook on his belt. Then, lantern in one hand and rifle-butt in the other, he walked quickly down the broad passage. He paused within three or four feet of the entrance, and held the lantern in such a way that his face was in shadow. Not a nerve trembled as he glanced down the slight declivity to the camp-fire of the night guard. Five Cossacks and a non-com-missioned officer sat on logs round the flames, for the air was cold and biting. They were divided into two groups, and each was playing a game of cards.

The corporal caught a gleam of the lantern and glanced carelessly up at the partly-shaded figure. “So,” he cried, “you are there at

lest, Nicolas? I thought you had gone to sleep.” “I was detained,” replied Pushkin gruffly. “I must trouble you to leave your cards for a moment, Corporal Petosky. The convicts in cell fifteen have been fighting, and their harrows and chains are badly tangled up. That fellow Trolov’s ankle is hurt, and his iron must be taken off.” “Bah ! lam in the middle of a game,” replied the corporal. “A curse on those unruly dogs. Let them suffer. In the morning they shall taste the lash.”

“But they will only fight the worse until they are untangled,” persisted Pushkin., who was by this time trembling inwardly. “It may end in murder before morning.”

Corporal Petosky swore roundly | as he detached a bunch of keys from his belt.

“Here, catch them, Nicolas,” he shouted, “Return them quickly. No, wait,” he added in the same breath. “I’ll have to go with you. That Push kin is a ferocious fellow, and he may try to make trouble.” Bidding his companions go on with the game, the non-commissioned officer rose and climbed the slope. He was a medium-sized man and rather slightly built. When he came within three feet of Pushkin the latter wheeled round and marched briskly into the shaft. The distance between them remained the same during the short tramp. Pushkin held the lantern a little behind his back., hut did not once turn his head. His ears were on the alert, however, and he was ready for instant action incase of necessity. The corporal followed carelessly, relieving his mind by frequent outbursts of profanity. His sword clanked at every step. Nov/ the cell was reached, and Pushkin knew by the sound that his companion was close behind him. He took one step across the threshold, and stooping over, placed the lantern on the ground. He was up again instantly. He wheeled round like a flash, and as quickly his brawny hands closed about Corporal Petosky’s throat. Though taken by surprise, the corporal fought like a tiger, hut he was led into the cell, where Alexis and Trolov laid hold of him, and in less time than it takes to tell it he was stretched flat on the ground, with a gag of cloth in his . mouth. He was quickly relieved of a pair of revolvers a lot of cartridges, a box of matches, and a handful of roubles. Pushkin took the money and the matches, and gave the revolvers and ammunition to his companions.

“We must have the uniform,” he j muttered. “Don’t stir, you rascal, if you care to live !” The corporal obeyed the command, but his eyes gleamed with passion as his outer garments were roughly torn j off and ho was bound hand and foot. ■ Then Pushkin took the keys and un- j locked his companion’s irons, as well I as the one that was on his own ankle. ( He hurriedly exchanged the Cossack j garb for his old clothes, meanwhile j sending Trolov into the passage to ■ keep watch. He kept the Cossack ! boots, and told Alexis to wear the ) non-commissioned officer’s boots and j sword. He strapped the sentry’s j cartridge belt round his waist, and finished his preparations by rolling the uniforms into two neat bundles, carrying one himself, and giving the other to Alexis.

“We may as well leave these behind,” he muttered, tossing the corporal’s bunch of keys to the ground. “We are ready to'start now.” He called Trolov in and relieved him of the lantern.

“Go up the passage half a dozen yards, comrades, and wait there for me,” he commanded. As they vanished in the darkness he threw a careless glance round the cell, and then "backed out, drawing the iron door close after him. He locked it, and put the bunch of keys in his pocket. The mouth of the mine was empty, and no doubt the Cossacks were still absorbed in their game of cards.

Pushkin picked up the rifle, which j he had dropped when he attacked the j corporal, and joined hie companions. • He led the way, flashing the lantern ! from side to side. Not a sound was j heard. The shackled inmates of the | surrounding cells were sleeping the j sleep of exhaustion. j The fugitives pushed rapidly on, , trembling with excitement. Passage j after passage was left behind, and be- j fore long the mouth of the lateral ; shaft was reached. Here each man j burdened himself, by Pushkin’s command, with a pick and shovel. The j tools were destined more for future: than present use. It was Pushkin j himself who tore away the loose rub- • bish with his hands, and pushed sturdily against the slab v until it toppled I inward with a dull crash, leaving a gap that was nearly two feet square. “I will go first with the lantern,” he said, “and you can pass me the things.” But as he bent over, peering into the hole, a dull, crashing noise came echoing faintly down the shaft.

CHAPTER XIV. In distant St. Petersburg the days went by more quickly than at the mines of Nertschinks, August was a memorable month, one topic of general conversation during its sultry weather bc.'ng the arrest and exposure of Paul Daresoff, the fugitive Terrorist, better known as Stepan Sebranji, the social favourite and frequenter of aristocratic clubs. His case was summarily disposed of, and before the month had run its course he was on his way back to the mines of Kara, heavily ironed and closely guarded. Hei was charged merely with being an escaped convict. Not the slightest rumour connected him with the assassination of Bulgarin and Inspector Sumaroff. The credit of his capture was given to Captain Baranoff and the cashier of the Imperial Bank, who, in due time.

shared the reward ol ten tnousanu roubles. Maxime Valadon and his employers succeeded in keeping their names entirely out of the affair.' Secrecy was now of more importance than ever. They had lost the first move in the game, but they were determined to pueh to the full extent of their power the investigations that had previously failed. The detective professed to be still sanguine of success, but Cranbrook, and Vivian knew that their chances were meagre. They decided that unless proof should be speedily found that would vindicate Sebranji’s victims, they would resort to a plan which had been gradually taking root .in their minds —a plan of far. greater daring and risk. Meanwhile Alphonse Depont was slowly coming back from the gates of death, though his terrible injuries would leave him a cripple for life. He knew the whole story of Sebranji’s crimes now, and yet his devoted heart still cherished a feeling of attachment for his would-be murderer. He had no hard feelings towards Valadon, however, and he was deeply grateful to Cranbrook and Vivian, who came frequently to see him and spent hours by his bedside, i He was under the care of a good nurse and a skilled surgeon, and, moreover, his future was comfortably assured by the possession of ten thousand roubles—the proceeds of the cheque drawn by Scbranji on the morning of his arrest. This matter had i been arranged by the consent of Captain Baranoff and of the cashier cf the Imperial Bank. The balance of I Sebranji’s funds had been attached by the Crown, and bis personal effects were removed from the house by the police, after Baranoff and Valadon I had searched vainly for anything of importance.

But Alphonse eared little about the money. His unfinished literary work preyed on his mind, and he looked anxiously forward to the time when he could sit up in bed and hold a pen.

[September and October passed away, and the close of the latter I month found Maxime Valadon exactly { where he had begun. In spite of the expenditure of large sums of money, I and the labours of trained and keen assistants, he was still without a clue. He placed a great deal of faith in advertisements, and had in consequence a tremendous correspondence; but out of hundreds of letters not one ! afforded anything tangible. To all j appearance Paul Daresoff was as ut--1 terly r-.'thout a past as though he had j dropped into St. Petersburg from the I skies in the month of February, 1884. Cranbrook and Vivian grew heartsick'and despondent. At times they were utterly without hope. Their new plan could not be carried into effect j until the opening of the spring, and Jto wait in suspense through the long j winter was a dreary prospect. I And meanwhile 1 Michael Korff had ( been no more successful than Maxime i Valadon and his companions. The j best detective talent had failed him, : and he daily drew nearer to the verge! |of ruin and dishonour. Yet he still \ hoped to avert the crash in time —to ! unravel the threads of his secret ! quest.

With skill and prudence he could control his affairs for six months to come—certainly no longer than the ensuing spring. But he was a man of iron will, and (with outward calmness he attended to his legal duties by day. At night the mask was off, and .in the privacy of his office he pored over masses of correspondence from all parts of the Russian Empire. The individual whom he desired to find seemed to have vanished from the world as mysteriously as Paul Daresofl had come' into it.

Concerning the fate of Count Nordhoff| and Helen Armfeldt, the lawyer I knew no more than the general public. He supposed that both were guilty of the crimes with which they had been charged. Through certain influences that he possessed at Court, the Nardhoff estate was still nominally in his hands, though the entire property had long since been attacked by the Crown. He was confident of retaining its control, and of thus having funds at his command to stave ofl the inevitable ruin—inevitable, unless his quest succeeded. We last saw Vassily Armfeldt starting on his long sea journey by the command of the Czar. During the sad days that followed he became in a measure resigned to his fate. He determined to perform faithfully whatever duties might be assigned to him, in the hope that he would speedily re-i gain the Czar’s favour, and' be sent back to St. Petersburg. Then his life was to be devoted to proving the innocence of hie sister and his friend—to unearthing the fiendish plot which he knew existed.

He reached Vladivostok in May, and at once reported to Colonel Bord, the commander of the Bast Siberian troops, who' placed him on his personal staff, with the rank of lieutenant. The colonel had previously received full instructions concerning the young, officer, for whom he probably felt some secret sympathy. He did not inform Vassily of his mother’s death, though he was aware of the fact, but he told him that his sister and Count Nordhoff were serving terms of exile in Siberia, without stating in what part. (To be Continued.)