ke matters worse. Boris is furious now, I know. And it will only
make my lot harder if you remain."

Paul could not move her though he pleaded with her for a long time;
and his heart was heavy as they at last drew near the house again.

That night, at dinner, Natalie tried bravely to be gay, but even the
brilliancy of her conversation and her brother's effort to entertain
his guest did not conceal from Paul the strain of the situation. A
young relative, Alexis Vseslavitch by name, was present at the board,
having ridden in that afternoon from his estate back in the hills. He
was a high-spirited youth and loved dearly to tease his cousin
Natalie. But even he saw that for once an unusual restraint seemed
upon her.

Afterward, they passed the long evening in the great hall where Paul
had waited in the morning. The room was ablaze with candles--and even
then the pale lady rang for a servant to bring in more. It was a wild
night. A storm had come with the darkness, and outside the wind howled
a savage symphony to accompanying crashes of thunder. Mademoiselle sat
by her brother, with her hand on the head of an old wolf-hound which
frequently looked up at her in dumb adoration as she chattered with
the men upon a hundred topics--chiefly travel--for they all loved it.

"Hush, Moka!" she said to the great beast when he sprang up once with
a sudden growl. "He does not like the thunder," she explained. "Some
people who were not welcome came here once, on a wild night like this,
when he was but a puppy. They forced their way into this very
room--and the old fellow never has forgotten."

In spite of her soothing words, the old dog was restless, and when, as
the hour grew late, Paul said good-night, he noticed that the faithful
brute was bristling as with anger at some unseen enemy.

Paul reached his chamber by the light of an ancient oil-lamp held
aloft by a servant--a hulking chap of somewhat forbidding appearance.
Baxter had already prepared Paul's room for the night and was not
waiting for his master. Paul said good-night to his attendant, and had
turned his back upon the man--when he heard a shout which appeared to
come from the hall below. He stopped short and turned--a movement
which he always thought afterward must have saved his life--to receive
a glancing, though still a stunning blow, from the butt of a revolver.

Like a log, Paul fell with a crash that shook the room, and knew no
more.

* * *