able that was near the window, said to the reporter:

"You had better come to the window; my man has just told me the boat
is drawing near. You can watch an interesting sight. We are sure that
Natacha is still aboard. The yacht, after the explosion at the datcha,
took up two men who put off to it in a canoe, and since then it has
simply sailed back and forth in the gulf. We have taken our precautions
in Finland the same as here and it is here they are going to try to
disembark. Keep an eye on them."

Koupriane was at his post of observation. Evening slowly fell. The sky
was growing grayish-black, a tint that blended with the slate-colored
sea. To those on the bank, the sound of the men about to die came softly
across the water. There was a sail far out. Between the strand and the
touba where Koupriane watched, was a ridge, a window, which, however,
did not hide the shore or the bay from the prefect of police, because at
the height where he was his glance passed at an angle above it. But from
the sea this ridge entirely hid anyone who lay in ambush behind it. The
reporter watched fifty moujiks flat on their stomachs crawling up the
ridge, behind two of their number whose heads alone topped the ridge.
In the line of gaze taken by those two heads was the white sail, looming
much larger now. The yacht was heeled in the water and glided with real
elegance, heading straight on. Suddenly, just when they supposed she was
coming straight to shore, the sails fell and a canoe was dropped over
the side. Four men got into it; then a woman jumped lightly down
a little gangway into the canoe. It was Natacha. Koupriane had no
difficulty in recognizing her through the gathering darkness.

"Ah, my dear Monsieur Rouletabille," said he, "see your prisoner of the
Nihilists. Notice how she is bound. Her thongs certainly are causing her
great pain. These revolutionaries surely are brutes!"

The truth was that Natacha had gone quite readily to the rudder and
while the others rowed she steered the light boat to the place on the
beach that had been pointed out to her. Soon the prow of the canoe
touched the sands. There did not seem to be a soul about, and that was
the conclusion the men in the canoe who stood up looking around, seemed
to reach. They jumped out, and then it was Natacha's turn. She accepted
the hand held out to her, talking pleasantly with the men all the time.
She even turned to press the hand of one of them. The group came up