ously, it was with the air of one whose
invitations were in the nature of "commands;" and also because he now
interested me more strongly than ever. I knew that he must be an
important personage, who was travelling incognito; though a man of such
physique could not expect to pass unrecognized. Seen in daylight he
appeared even more remarkable than he had done under the sizzling arc
lights of the station. His face was as handsome as his figure;
well-featured, though the chin was concealed by a short beard,
bronze-colored like his hair, and cut to the fashion set by the present
Tsar. His eyes were singularly blue, the clear, vivid Scandinavian blue
eyes, keen and far-sighted as those of an eagle, seldom seen save in
sailor men who have Norse blood in their veins.

I wonder now that I did not at once guess his identity, though he gave
me no clue to it.

When he ascertained that I was an American, who had travelled
considerably and was now bound for Russia, he plied me with shrewd
questions, which showed that he had a pretty wide knowledge of social
and political matters in most European countries, though he had never
been in the States.

"This is your first visit to Russia?" he inquired, presently. "No?"

I explained that I had spent a winter in Petersburg some years back, and
had preserved very pleasant memories of it.

"I trust your present visit may prove as pleasant," he said courteously.
"Though you will probably perceive a great difference. Not that we are
in the constant state of excitement described by some of the foreign
papers," he added with a slight smile. "But Petersburg is no longer the
gay city it was, 'Paris by the Neva' as we used to say. We--"

He checked himself and rose as the train pulled up for the few minutes'
halt at Konigsberg; and with a slight salute turned and passed through
the guarded doorway.

"Can you tell me that officer's name?" I asked the conductor, as I
retreated to the rear car.

"You know him as well as I do," he answered ambiguously, pocketing the
tip I produced.

"I don't know his name."

"Then neither do I," retorted the man surlily.

I saw no more of my new acquaintance till we reached the frontier, when,
as with the other passengers I was hustled into the apartment where
luggage and passports are examined, I caught a glimpse of him striding
towards the great _grille_, that, with its armed guard, is the actual
line of demarcation between the two countries. Beside him