les had lost some of their
hardness from high living and he was, moreover, unversed in the great
Anglo-American pastime. He strove to seize his aggressor, to strangle
him, but his fingers failed to grip what they sought. At the same time
Mr. Heatherbloom's arms shot up, down and around, with marvelous
precision, seeking and finding the vulnerable spots. The prince soon
realized he was being badly punished and the knowledge did not serve to
improve his temper. Had he only been able to get hold of his opponent he
could have crushed him with his superior weight. A stationary table,
however, in the center of the room assisted Mr. Heatherbloom in eluding
the wild dashes, the while he continued to lunge and dodge in a most
businesslike manner.

Panting, the prince had, at length, to pause. His face revealed several
marks of the contest and the sight did not seem displeasing to Mr.
Heatherbloom. A quiet smile strained his lips; a cold satisfaction shone
in the bloodshot eyes.

"Come on," he said, stepping a little from the table.

The prince did not respond to the invitation. His dazed mind was working
now. Through bruised lids he regarded the soot-masked intruder--a
nihilist, no doubt! His excellency had had one or two experiences with
members of secret societies in the past. There was a nest of them in New
Jersey. Though how one of them could have managed to get aboard the
_Nevski_, he had no time just then to figure out. The nobleman looked
over his shoulder toward a press-button.

"Come on!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom softly.

The nobleman sprang, instead, the other way, but he did not reach what
he sought. Mr. Heatherbloom's arm described an arc; the application
was made with expert skill and effectiveness. His excellency swayed,
relaxed, and, this time, remained where he fell. Mr. Heatherbloom locked
the door leading into the dining _salle_--the other, opening upon the
deck, he had already tried and found fastened--and drew closer the
draperies before the windows. Then returning to the prince, he prodded
gently the prostrate figure.

"Get up!" His excellency moved, then staggered with difficulty to his
feet and gazed around. "You'll be able to think all right in a moment,"
said Heatherbloom. "Sit down. Only," in crisp tones, "I wouldn't move
from the chair if I were you. Because--" His excellency understood;
something bright gleamed close.

"Are you going to murder me?" he breathed hoarsely. His excellency's
cous