ame, which was a long Polish one, I
think--"to the place on the council, vacant since the murder of our
comrade, Vladimir Selinski?"

Selinski! Cassavetti! He little guessed as he spoke that the man who
found Cassavetti's body was now within five paces of him!

Not a hand was raised, and the man who had not voted stepped on to the
dais, in obedience to a gesture from the president, and took his seat in
silence.

A hoarse murmur of approval went round; but that was all. The grim
quietude of these men was more fearful than any amount of noise could
have been, and, as the president raised his hand slightly, a dead
silence fell.

"Remains now only that we do justice on the murderess of Selinski, the
traitress who has betrayed our secrets, has frustrated many of our
plans, has warned more than one of those whom we have justly doomed to
death--her lover among them--with the result that they have escaped, for
the present. We would not condemn her unheard, but so far she is
obdurate; she defies us, endeavors once more to trick us. If she were
other than she is, or rather than she has been, she would have been
removed long since, when suspicion first fell upon her; but there are
many of us who love her still, who would not believe her guilty without
the evidence of their own eyes and ears; and therefore we have brought
her here that she may speak for herself, defend herself if that is
possible. It will rest with you to acquit or condemn her!"

He spoke quite quietly, but the cool, deliberate malignity of his tone
was horrible; and somehow I knew that the majority of those present
shared his animosity against the prisoner, although he had spoken of
"many of us who love her."

The man beside me touched my arm, and spoke to me in French.

"Do you understand him?"

"Yes, do you?"

"No."

There was no time for more, for, at a signal from the president, a door
at the side near the dais was opened, and a woman was led in by two men,
each holding her by an arm. They released her, and she stepped back a
pace, and stood against the wall, her hands pressed against it on either
side, bracing herself like a royal creature at bay.

It was Anne herself, and for a moment I stood, unable to move, scarcely
able to breathe. There was something almost unearthly about her beauty
and courage. The feeble lamplight seemed to strengthen, and to
concentrate itself on her face,--colorless save for the vivid red
lips,--on her eyes, wide and