plain your conduct."

"Indeed!" replied De Chauxville. "Then, my friend, you will have to
continue waiting. I fail to recognize your right to make enquiry into my
movements. I am not responsible to any man for my actions, least of all
to you. The man who manages his neighbor's affairs mismanages his own. I
would recommend you to mind your own business. Kindly let me pass."

De Chauxville's words were brave enough, but his lips were unsteady. A
weak mouth is apt to betray its possessor at inconvenient moments. He
waved Steinmetz aside, but he made no movement toward the door. He kept
the table between him and his companion.

Steinmetz was getting calmer. There was an uncanny hush about him.

"Then I am to conclude," he said, "that you came to Russia in order to
persecute a helpless woman. Her innocence or her guilt is, for the
moment, beside the question. Neither is any business of yours. Both, on
the contrary, are my affair. Innocent or guilty, the Princess Howard
Alexis must from this moment be freed from your persecution."

De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He tapped on the floor impatiently
with the toe of his neat riding-boot.

"Allons!" he said. "Let me pass!"

"Your story of Sydney Bamborough," went on Steinmetz coldly, "was a good
one wherewith to frighten a panic-stricken woman. But you brought it to
the wrong person when you brought it to me. Do you suppose that I would
have allowed the marriage to take place unless I knew that Bamborough
was dead?"

"You may be telling the truth about that incident or you may not," said
De Chauxville. "But my knowledge of the betrayal of the Charity League
is sufficient for my purpose."

"Yes," admitted Steinmetz grimly, "you have information there with
possibilities of mischief in it. But I shall discount most of it by
telling Prince Pavlo to-night all that I know, and I know more than you
do. Also, I intend to seal your lips before you leave this room."

De Chauxville stared at him with a dropping lip. He gulped down
something in his throat. His hand was stealing round under the fur
jacket to a pocket at the back of his trousers.

"Let me out!" he hissed.

There was a gleam of bright metal in the sunlight that poured in through
the window. De Chauxville raised his arm sharply, and at the same
instant Steinmetz threw a book in his face. A loud report, and the room
was full of smoke.

Steinmetz placed one hand on the table and, despite his weight, vaulted
i