Velasco threw open the door: "Bozhe moi!"

As he did so, a woman's figure, slim and small, hooded and wrapped in a
long, black cloak, darted inside, and snatching the door from his hand,
closed it behind her rapidly, fearfully, glancing back into the
darkness. The woman was panting under the hood. She braced herself
against the door, still clasping the bolt as though a weapon. Her back
was crooked beneath the cloak and she seemed to be crippled.

Velasco drew back. His eagerness vanished and the light died out of
his face. "Who in the name of--" He hesitated: "What in the world--"
Then he hesitated again, his dark eyes blinking under his brows.

The woman stretched her hands from under the cloak, clasping them. She
was fighting hard for her breath.

"Tell me, Monsieur," she whispered, "Tell me quickly--are you married?
Are you going alone to Germany?" Her voice shook and trembled: "Oh,
tell me,--quickly."

"Married, my good woman!" exclaimed Velasco. His eyes opened wide and
he drew back a little further: "Why really, Madame--Of course I am
going alone to Germany. What do you mean? How extraordinary!"

"Quite alone?" repeated the woman, "no friend, no manager? Oh then,
sir, do me the little favour, the kindness--it will cost you nothing--I
shall never forget it--I shall bless you all the days of my life."

She took a step forward, limping. Velasco recovered himself.

"Sit down, Madame," he said, "and explain. You are trembling so. Let
me give you some wine.--Wait a minute. There,--is it money you want?
Tell me."

His manner was that of a prince to a beggar, lofty, authoritative,
kindly, indifferent. "Sit down, Madame."

The woman shrank back against the door and her hand fled to the bolt as
if seeking support. "No--no!" she murmured. "You don't understand.
It's not for--not money! I'm in trouble, danger. Don't you see? I
must flee from Russia--now, at once. You are going to Germany alone,
to-morrow night. Take me with you--take me with--you!"

An irritated look came over Velasco's face. Was the creature mad?
"That is nonsense," he said, "I can't take any one with me, and I
wouldn't if I could. Besides there is only one passport."

The woman put her hand to her breast. It was throbbing madly under the
cloak. "You could take--your--wife," she whispered, "Your wife. No
one would suspect."

"Really, my dear Madame!"

Velasco yawned behind his palm. "What you say is simply ab