made by
the Agency--a hard one. I am to see no relations. My wife--well, bon
Dieu! it does not matter much. She is occupied in keeping herself warm,
no doubt. But Catrina! that is a different matter. Tell me--how is she?
That is the first thing I want to know."

"She is well," answered Steinmetz. "I saw her yesterday."

"And happy?" The broad-faced man looked into Steinmetz's face with
considerable keenness.

"Yes."

It was a moment for mental reservations. One wonders whether such are
taken account of in heaven.

"And Paul?" asked the Count Stepan Lanovitch at once. "Tell me about
him."

"He is married," answered Steinmetz.

The Count Lanovitch was looking at the lamp. He continued to look at it
as if interested in the mechanism of the burner. Then he turned his eyes
to the face of his companion.

"I wonder, my friend," he said slowly, "how much you know?"

"Nothing," answered Steinmetz.

The count looked at him enquiringly, heaved a sharp sigh, and abandoned
the subject.

"Well," he said, "let us get to business. I have much to ask and to tell
you. I want you to see Catrina and to tell her that I am safe and well,
but she must not attempt to see me or correspond with me for some years
yet. Of course you heard no account of my trial. I was convicted, on the
evidence of paid witnesses, of inciting to rebellion. It was easy
enough, of course. I shall live either in the south or in Austria. It is
better for you to be in ignorance."

Steinmetz nodded his head curtly.

"I do not want to know," he said.

"Will you please ask Catrina to send me money through the usual channel?
No more than she has been sending. It will suffice for my small wants.
Perhaps some day we may meet in Switzerland or in America. Tell the dear
child that. Tell her I pray the good God to allow that meeting. As for
Russia, her day has not come yet. It will not come in our time, my dear
friend. We are only the sowers. So much for the future. Now about the
past. I have not been idle. I know who stole the papers of the Charity
League and sold them. I know who bought them and paid for them."

Steinmetz closed the door. He came back to the table. He was not smiling
now--quite the contrary.

"Tell me," he said. "I want to know that badly."

The Count Lanovitch looked up with a peculiar soft smile--acquired in
prison. There is no mistaking it.

"Oh, I bear no ill will," he said.

"I do," answered Steinmetz bluntly. "Who stole the pape