his apartment in furious
soliloquy. "Now we shall see! Yes, you little people must first settle
with Storri! A Russian nobleman is not to be disposed of so cheaply!
What if he were to steal away your bride? The caitiff Storms must then
wait, eh?"

Storri snapped his fingers in vicious derision. He pictured the father
and mother and bridegroom, when they arose on the wedding morning to
find that the bride had been spirited away. Storri programmed a crime,
the black audacity of which went far beyond that dark-lantern enterprise
of Treasury gold upon which London Bill was so patiently employed. The
design possessed the simplicity, too, which is a ruling feature of your
staggering atrocity. The gold would be going aboard the _Zulu Queen_ on
Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. With the first blue streaks of dawn
on Monday, May thirtieth, say at four o'clock, the _Zulu Queen_,
thinking on escape, must up anchor and go steaming down the Potomac. Now
what should be less complex than to have Benzine Bob set fire to the
Harley house an hour before the time to sail? A bundle of combustibles
soaked in kerosene could be introduced into Senator Hanway's study; the
details might be safely left with Benzine Bob, to whom opening a window
or taking out a pane of glass offered few deterring difficulties. The
Harley house would be instantly filled with fire and smoke. Storri and
Benzine Bob, under pretense of saving life, would burst in the door.
Storri would seize on Dorothy, who, if she were not already in a
convenient fainting fit, might be stifled by muffling her in blankets.
Steamboat Dan would be in the street with a cab, himself on the box as
driver. Presto! Storri with his sweet prize would whirl away to the
river front. The launch would be waiting; the fair Dorothy should find
herself safe prisoner aboard the _Zulu Queen_ before she knew what had
taken place. True, there would be a crowd; the fire people, and what
others were abroad at that hour, would rush to the burning house. And
yet who would think of questioning Storri, so heroically rescuing life?
Who would dream of stopping him who was only taking the rescued fainting
one to safe shelter and medical help? In the bustle and alarm, Storri
was bound to succeed; there was no least chance of interference.

If Storri could have read the jealous breast of the San Reve, in which
kindly soil a wildest suspicion was never two hours old before it had
grown to the granite dignity of