here was a stairway leading to
the upper part of the premises, and a narrower stairway, also lighted by
gas, at the foot leading to the cellar; and it was down the latter that
Yakoff moved, followed by the girl.

They were now in another passage, whitewashed and very orderly. A
gas-jet lit this also, and at one end the girl saw a plain, wooden door.
To this Yakoff advanced and knocked. A small wicket, set in the panel,
was pushed aside, and after a brief scrutiny by the door's custodian, it
was opened and the two entered without further parley.

CHAPTER II

A GUN-MAN REFUSES WORK

It was a big underground room, the sort of basement dining-room one
finds in certain of the cafes in Soho, and its decorations and furniture
were solid and comfortable. There were a dozen men in this
innocent-looking saloon when the girl entered. They were standing about
talking, or sitting at the tables playing games. The air was blue with
tobacco smoke.

Her arrival seemed to be the signal for the beginning of a conference.
Four small tables were drawn from the sides and placed together, and in
a few seconds she found herself one of a dozen that sat about the board.

The man who seemed to take charge of the proceedings she did not know.
He was a Russian--a big, clean-shaven man, quietly and even
well-dressed. His hair was flaming red, his nose was crooked. It was
this crooked nose which gave her a clue to his identity. She remembered
in Kieff, where physical peculiarities could not pass unnoticed, some
reference to "twist nose," and racked her brains in an effort to recall
who that personage was. That he knew her he very quickly showed.

"Sophia Kensky," he said, "we have sent for you to ask you why your
father is in London."

"If you know my father," she replied, "you know also that I, his
daughter, do not share his secrets."

The man at the head of the table nodded.

"I know him," he said grimly, "also I know you, Sophia. I have seen you
often at the meetings of our society in Kieff."

Again she frowned, trying to recall his name and where she had seen him.
It was not at any of the meetings of the secret society--of that she was
sure. He seemed to read her thoughts, for he laughed--a deep, thunderous
laugh which filled the underground room with sound.

"It is strange that you do not know me," he said, "and yet I have seen
you a hundred times, and you have seen me."

A light dawned on her.

"Boolba, the _buffet-sch