s his idea of a neat piece of business. But it will be
all right, of course. I doubt if you'll even be sent for trial; but if
you are, no jury would convict you. Anyhow, I've sent for Sir George
Lucas,--he ought to be here directly,--and I've given him _carte
blanche_, at my expense, of course; so if a defence is needed you'd have
the best that's to be got."

I began to stammer my thanks and protestations. I should never have
dreamed of engaging the famous lawyer, who, if the matter did not prove
as insignificant as Southbourne seemed to anticipate, and I had to stand
my trial, would, in his turn, secure an equally famous K. C.,--a luxury
far beyond my own means.

But Southbourne checked me at the outset.

"That's all right," he said in his lazy way. "I can't afford to lose a
good man,--when there's a chance of saving him. I hadn't the chance with
Carson; he was a good man, too, though he was a fool,--as you are! But,
after all, it's the fools who rush in where angels fear to tread;
therefore they're a lot more valuable in modern journalism than any
angel could be, when they survive their folly, as you have so far! and
now I want to know just what you were up to from the time you left your
hotel till you were handed over by the Russian authorities; that is, if
you feel equal to it. If not, another time will do, of course."

I told him just as much--or as little--as I had already told Freeman. He
watched me intently all the time from under his heavy lids, and nodded
as I came to the end of my brief recital.

"You'll be able to do a good series; even if you're committed for trial
you'll have plenty of time, for the case can't come on till September.
'The Red Terror in Russia' will do for the title; we'll publish it in
August, and you must pile it on thick about the prison. It's always a
bit difficult to rake up sufficient horrors to satisfy the public in the
holidays; what gluttons they are! But, look here, didn't I tell you not
to meddle with this sort of thing?"

I had been expecting this all along, and was ready for it now.

"You did. But, as you've just said, 'Fools rush in,' etcetera. And I'm
quite willing to acknowledge that there's a lot more of fool than angel
in me."

"You're not fool enough to disobey orders without some strong motive,"
he retorted. "So now,--why did you go to that meeting?"

I was determined not to tell him. Anne might be dead, or in a Russian
prison, which was worse than death; at an