e truth, the whole truth and nothing but the
truth. Of what is this man accused?"

There was a moment of silence, intense and charged with significance;
then the mask spoke.

"In the province of Pskof there is a Commune. One night, last winter,
the peasants rose without warning. They shot, they maimed, they
hacked, they burned alive every Jew in the village, men, women and
children; not one escaped. The police were behind them. The
instigator of the police was--"

The Head raised his hand: "Do you know this for a fact, from personal
information?"

"I know it for a fact, from personal information."

The first mask took his seat and the second rose, a gaunt figure, the
shoulders bowed and crippled under the cloak. His voice was deep and
full, with tones plaintive and penetrating.

"A month ago there were seven men arrested. They were taken to 'Peter
and Paul' and thrust into dungeons unspeakable. They received no
trial; they were convicted of no crime; they never saw their families
again. Three of these men are now in the mines. Two are still in the
cells. Two are dead."

"Why were they arrested and by whose order?"

"They were workmen who had attended a meeting of the Social Democrats
and had helped to circulate Liberal papers. It was done by the order
of--"

The third mask sprang to his feet. His fists were clenched, and he was
breathing hard like one who has been running.

"It is my turn," he cried, "Let me--speak! You know--you haven't
forgotten!--On the Tsar's birthday, a band of students marched to the
steps of the Winter Palace. They went peacefully, with trust in their
hearts, no weapon in their hands. They were surrounded by Cossacks,
who beat them with knouts, riding them down. They were boys, some of
them hardly out of the Gymnasium, the flower of our youth, brave sons
of Russia ready to fight for her and die." He hesitated and his voice
broke. "At the foot of the Alexander Column, they were mown down like
grass without warning, or mercy; their blood still sprinkles the
stones. Many were killed, hundreds arrested, few escaped. At the head
of the Cossacks rode--"

A sigh stirred the room deepening into a groan, and then came a hush.
Some buried their faces in their hands, weeping silently behind the
masks. After a while the Head raised his hand and the fourth rose,
slowly, reluctantly, speaking in a woman's voice so faint and low it
could scarcely make itself heard. The mask