it brought Mr. Razumov as we know him to the test of another
faith. There was nothing official in its expression, and Mr. Razumov was
led to defend his attitude of detachment. But Councillor Mikulin would
have none of his arguments. "For a man like you," were his last weighty
words in the discussion, "such a position is impossible. Don't forget
that I have seen that interesting piece of paper. I understand your
liberalism. I have an intellect of that kind myself. Reform for me is
mainly a question of method. But the principle of revolt is a physical
intoxication, a sort of hysteria which must be kept away from the
masses. You agree to this without reserve, don't you? Because, you see,
Kirylo Sidorovitch, abstention, reserve, in certain situations, come
very near to political crime. The ancient Greeks understood that very
well."

Mr. Razumov, listening with a faint smile, asked Councillor Mikulin
point-blank if this meant that he was going to have him watched.

The high official took no offence at the cynical inquiry.

"No, Kirylo Sidorovitch," he answered gravely. "I don't mean to have you
watched."

Razumov, suspecting a lie, affected yet the greatest liberty of mind
during the short remainder of that interview. The older man expressed
himself throughout in familiar terms, and with a sort of shrewd
simplicity. Razumov concluded that to get to the bottom of that mind was
an impossible feat. A great disquiet made his heart beat quicker. The
high official, issuing from behind the desk, was actually offering to
shake hands with him.

"Good-bye, Mr Razumov. An understanding between intelligent men is
always a satisfactory occurrence. Is it not? And, of course, these rebel
gentlemen have not the monopoly of intelligence."

"I presume that I shall not be wanted any more?" Razumov brought out
that question while his hand was still being grasped. Councillor Mikulin
released it slowly.

"That, Mr. Razumov," he said with great earnestness, "is as it may
be. God alone knows the future. But you may rest assured that I
never thought of having you watched. You are a young man of great
independence. Yes. You are going away free as air, but you shall end by
coming back to us."

"I! I!" Razumov exclaimed in an appalled murmur of protest. "What for?"
he added feebly.

"Yes! You yourself, Kirylo Sidorovitch," the high police functionary
insisted in a low, severe tone of conviction. "You shall be coming back
to us. Some of our