einmetz.

Paul came forward, and Maggie rather obviously avoided looking at him.

"Tell us of Paul's crimes first," said Etta, rather hurriedly. She
glanced at the clock, whither Karl Steinmetz's eyes had also travelled.

"Oh, Paul," said Maggie, rather indifferently. Indeed, it seemed as if
her lightness of heart had suddenly failed her. "Well, perhaps he is
deeply involved in schemes for the resurrection of the Polish kingdom,
or something of that sort."

"That sounds tame," put in Steinmetz. "I think you would construct a
better romance respecting the princess. In books it is always the
beautiful princesses who are most deeply dyed in crime."

Maggie opened her fan and closed it again.

"Well," she said, tapping on the arm of her chair with it; "I give Etta
a mysterious past. She is the sort of person who would laugh and dance
at a ball with the knowledge that there was a mine beneath the floor."

"I do not think I am," said Etta, with a shudder. She rose rather
hurriedly, and crossed the room with a great rustle of silks.

"Stop her!" she whispered, as she passed Steinmetz.

CHAPTER XXI

A SUSPECTED HOUSE

The Countess Lanovitch and Catrina were sitting together in the
too-luxurious drawing-room that overlooked the English Quay and the
Neva. The double windows were rigorously closed, while the inner panes
were covered with a thick rime. The sun was just setting over the
marshes that border the upper waters of the Gulf of Finland, and lit up
the snow-clad city with a rosy glow which penetrated to the room where
the two women sat.

Catrina was restless, moving from chair to chair, from fire-place to
window, with a lack of repose which would certainly have touched the
nerves of a less lethargic person than the countess.

"My dear child!" that lady was exclaiming with lackadaisical horror, "we
cannot go to Thors yet. The thought is too horrible. You never think of
my health. Besides, the gloom of the everlasting snow is too painful. It
makes me think of your poor mistaken father, who is probably shovelling
it in Siberia. Here, at all events, one can avoid the window--one need
not look at it."

"The policy of shutting one's eyes is a mistake," said Catrina.

She had risen, and was standing by the window, her stunted form being
framed, as it were, in a rosy glow of pink.

The countess heaved a little sigh and gazed idly at the fire. She did
not understand Catrina. She was afraid of her. There wa