through the dismal Russian
country. Wearing her Red Cross uniform she felt a sufficient protection,
besides old Nika's presence. But the real truth is she was too absorbed
in considering Sonya's history and fate to be aware of anything else.

She was therefore more annoyed than frightened when a figure appeared
before her at the crossing of the road by the Three Pines. The voice
that straightway called out to them held a quality of command that made
Nika drop at once on his knees. Nona was not in the least frightened,
but then she had seen the outline of the young officer's figure and the
glistening of his sword hilt.

"I am Nona Davis, an American Red Cross nurse on my way back to the
fortress, Lieutenant Orlaff," the girl explained. "I am glad to have met
you, as perhaps you will tell me what I must do when I reach the gate."

The Russian officer saluted as though Nona had been a superior officer.

"I was on my way at the present moment to Sonya Valesky's home to
inquire for her. This is the first hour of freedom I have been able to
command all day. But tell me what brings you back to the fortress at
this time? Has Sonya grown worse or is she better?"

Here was her opportunity. Nona felt that fate must have sent it to her
by a special dispensation. Now there need be no delay in her confidence.

Lieutenant Orlaff came of a noble family, he must have powerful
connections, if he could only be persuaded to use them in Sonya's
behalf. Certainly he had appeared to be her friend, although
disapproving of her behavior and views of life.

As sympathetically and as quickly as possible Nona told of the coming
of the Russian police. Then she laid great stress on the fact that Sonya
was too ill to have been taken away at such a time. Yet she had gone
without resistance, making no plea for herself and asking for no aid.
What must _they_ do? The situation was unendurable.

Intentionally Nona used the pronoun "they," including Lieutenant Orlaff
with herself in their interest in Sonya. Yet except for his first
muttered exclamation the Russian officer had made no comment.

In the darkness Nona gazed at him resentfully. The Russians were a cruel
people, sometimes all fire and then again all ice. She would like to
have told him what an American man would have attempted for a friend,
who was a woman and in such a tragic position, no matter what her crime
or mistake. But Nona was sure by this time that Sonya Valesky had
committed