with his back to
the glowing stove, a burly, thick-set man, attired in an undress
military uniform. He appeared to be about forty years of age; he wore
his hair cropped short, and his face was partially hidden by a heavy,
unkempt beard and moustache. He had evidently just dined, for the
draped extremity of the table was littered with the remains of a repast,
he was smoking an immense pipe, while a tumbler of steaming vodki stood
close to his hand upon the table. This individual was Count Vasilovich;
and he was alone. He made no movement to rise at von Schalckenberg's
entrance, but stared intently at his visitor, twisting the card in his
hand in a nervous, impatient way.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE PROFESSOR BRINGS IN A PRISONER.

"I have met you before, I think, Herr Professor," Vasilovich at length
remarked. "And your card says that you have important business with me.
What can I do for you?"

"You can do a great deal for me, Count," answered von Schalckenberg,
composedly. "But first of all," he continued, "I have a little thing
here that I wish to show you; you are a connoisseur in such things, and
it will interest you."

So saying, the professor slipped his hand into his pocket, and produced
a pistol, made apparently of polished silver, but really of aethereum.
He held it by the barrel and offered it to the Count, remarking--

"There, Count, that is a simple enough weapon, to all appearance, is it
not? Kindly examine it, and see if you can discover anything remarkable
about it."

A sudden look of terrified anxiety leapt into Vasilovich's eyes as the
professor produced the handsome little weapon; but the placid manner of
the latter as he tendered the pistol for examination seemed to reassure
him, and grasping the butt, he looked at it intently.

"Is the pistol an invention of yours which you wish the Russian
Government to adopt?" he demanded, as he turned the weapon about in his
hand, eyeing it curiously.

"That is as it may be," answered von Schalckenberg. "At present,
knowing you to be, perhaps, as good a judge as any man in Russia of such
tools, I merely wish to obtain your unbiassed opinion of its merits."

"Its merits?" demanded Vasilovich, impatiently. "What _are_ its merits?
I see nothing peculiar about it excepting this cylinder from which the
barrel projects. Is that a magazine?"

"It is," answered the professor; "it accommodates twenty cartridges.
But that is not the most extraordinary t