uld deem me capable of such an act as
that!"

"I did not princess, until--well, there was no other theory. At all
events, I have changed my mind. Who is Ivan?"

"My brother."

"I did not know you had a brother."

"Naturally, since his existence is forgotten. He was sentenced to
Siberia when he was sixteen. Now he is thought to be dead, but he
escaped, and is here. He must have brought some one with him last
night--somebody who listened to everything. Do you know what that note
means, my friend? It means that you have been sentenced to death. It
means that the nihilists will surely take your life; and oh, my God,
there is no escape!"

CHAPTER XI

FOR THE SAKE OF THE CZAR

When one is sentenced to death by the nihilists in Russia it sends a
cold shiver down the back, no matter how brave and self-reliant one may
be, for those fanatics have an uncomfortable way of carrying out such
decrees to the bitter end. However, I smiled and assured the princess
that I thought I could find a way to avoid the consequences of my
eavesdropping, and then awaited the moment when she would say more. For
a long time she was silent, and during it I studied her carefully, for
she was the most complex puzzle that I had ever encountered in the
shape of a woman. I had heard enough to know that she was not only a
conspirator against the life of the emperor, but that she was
ostensibly if not really, the leader among her fellow conspirators; or
if not _the_ leader, then a leader. I had heard her talk glibly of
assassination and death, and I had heard her deplore in mental anguish
the part she was forced to play in the game of Russian politics. In one
moment I had believed her to be a heartless schemer, a murderess, and
one who was devoid of compassion; and in the next I was forced to the
conjecture that she was a victim of circumstances, and that she had no
love for or sympathy with the cause she advocated. Now, as I watched
her, the same emotions succeeded each other in my judgment of her
character, and finally I summed them all up in the decision that she
was a being who was swayed by impulses. There are seeming paradoxes
which will explain just what my conclusions were concerning Zara de
Echeveria. She was deliberately impulsive; calculatingly reckless;
systematically chaotic. The warm, Southern blood in her veins impelled
her to deeds which were rendered thrice effective by reason of the fact
that she applied to them the calcul