and I are investigating matters, that is all. The plain truth, my
dear young lady, is that we do not know ourselves what is in the wind.
We only know there is something. You are a horsewoman--you know the
feeling of a restive horse. One knows that he is only waiting for an
excuse to shy or to kick or to rear. One feels it thrilling in him. Paul
and I have that feeling in regard to the peasants. We are going the
round of the outlying villages, steadily and carefully. We are seeking
for the fly on the horse's body--you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

She gave a little nod. She had not lost color, but there was an anxious
look in her eyes.

"Some people would have sent to Tver for the soldiers," Steinmetz went
on. "But Paul is not that sort of man. He will not do it yet. You
remember our conversation at the Charity Ball in London?"

"Yes."

"I did not want you to come then. I am sorry you have come now."

Maggie laid aside the newspaper with a little laugh.

"But, Herr Steinmetz," she said, "I am not afraid. Please remember that.
I have absolute faith in you--and in Paul."

Steinmetz accepted this statement with his grave smile.

"There is only one thing I would recommend," he said, "and that is a
perfect discretion. Speak of this to no one, especially to no servants.
You remember your own mutiny in India. Gott! what wonderful people you
English are--men and women alike! You remember how the ladies kept up
and brazened it out before the servants. You must do the same. I think I
hear the rustle of the princess's dress. Yes! And there is no news in
the papers, you say?"

"None," replied Maggie.

It may not have been entirely by chance that Claude de Chauxville drove
over to Osterno to pay his respects the next day, and expressed himself
desolated at hearing that the prince had gone out with Herr Steinmetz in
a sleigh to a distant corner of the estate.

"My horses must rest," said the Frenchman, calmly taking off his fur
gloves. "Perhaps the princess will see me."

A few minutes later he was shown into the morning-room.

"Did I see Mlle. Delafield on snow-shoes in the forest as I came along?"
De Chauxville asked the servant in perfect Russian before the man left
the room.

"Doubtless, Excellency. She went out on her snow-shoes half an hour
ago."

"That is all right," said the Frenchman to himself when the door was
closed.

He went to the fire and warmed his slim white fingers. There was an evil
smi