sonable time--say three o'clock--and
we'll tell you all about it."

My two years' sojourn in England had accustomed me to English ways.
I had certainly committed an indiscretion in ringing up my former
clients (I was their legal adviser in Petersburg) at such an
unconscionable time.

I found Tatiana, in a smart black glace gown, reclining on a sofa
and smoking a cigarette in a dull sitting-room, surrounded by other
Russian _emigres_. She jumped up when she saw me.

"At last, Monsieur Anatole," she said. "You remember when you left
Petersburg in 1918 I told you that you would be submarined, but here
you are back again safely. I'm _so glad_." Her eyes shone and she held
out her little white hand. "You have brought it with you?"

"What with me?"

"The soap, of course. Surely you remember. I asked you to buy me some
Savon Ideal in Paris. It is the only kind that suits my skin."

"But I haven't been to Paris."

"You haven't brought my soap! Why haven't you been to Paris?"

"I have been to London."

She pouted. "Why stay in London instead of Paris? What silliness!"

"And how did you get here?" I asked.

"By sledge. It was terribly exciting and illegal, of course, and
dangerous. Petersburg's awful. All the pipes have burst and there are
no Russians there."

"No Russians!" I exclaimed.

"Because the best people--I mean, of course, the people who won't
work--have all adopted other nationalities. We are--what are we,
Mother?"

"I think it's Adgans, my dear," the old lady chimed in.

"Adgans," I repeated.

"Something of that sort," said the Princess. "It doesn't matter about
the name, but it's more convenient. You are under the protection of
your Government and then your property benefits."

"Do you mean Azerbaijans?" I asked.

"Oh, I daresay."

"But what claim have you to become Azerbaijans?"

"Every claim," she answered with asperity. "Somebody had a property
there once--either one of our family or a friend. Why don't your
family become Esthonians? You'd find it much more convenient. Your
father could leave Petersburg."

"But he's never been to Esthonia."

"That's nonsense," said Tatiana; "he must have travelled through Reval
at some time, and besides I remember he went to Riga once to fight a
case for the Government."

"But Riga's in Latvia," I protested.

"What does that matter? Anyhow we escaped with two hundred thousand
roubles and one small trunk. The first few weeks we had a great time
her