ously divided
between fear of losing her, and dread of myself and any action I
might take.

"That will not do for me," I said sternly. "I can only make you this
offer: Come with me at once to this lady's sleeping berth and regain
the despatch, and I will agree to say no more about it; refuse, and I
shall report the whole affair to his majesty personally."

"Who are you?" inquired the dismayed man.

"That is of no consequence. You see my uniform--let that be enough
for you."

He staggered down the car. I followed, and we reached the car where
the Princess was at the moment engaged, with Marie's aid, in putting
the last touches to her toilet.

She looked up at our appearance, gave an interrogative glance first
at Menken and then, at me, and evidently made up her mind.

"What is it, gentlemen?"

"The--the paper I gave--that you offered to--that--in short, I want
it immediately," faltered my companion.

"I have no paper of yours, and I do not know what you are talking
about, my friend," said the Princess Y---- with the calmest air in
the world.

Menken uttered a cry of despair.

"The letter, the letter I gave you last night--it was a letter from
the Czar," he exclaimed feebly.

"I think you must have dreamed it," said the Princess with extreme
composure. "Marie, have you seen any letter about?"

"No, your highness," returned the servant submissively.

"If you think there is anything here, you are welcome to look," her
mistress added with a pleasant smile. "As for me, I never keep
letters, my own or anybody else's. _I always tear them up._"

And with these words, and another smile and a nod, she stepped
gracefully past us, and went to take her seat in the part of the
train reserved for ladies.

Somewhere, doubtless, on the white Manchurian plain we had crossed in
the night, the fragments of the imperial peacemaker's letter were
being scattered by the wind.

Menken's face had changed utterly in the last minute. He resembled an
elderly man.

"Tell the Czar that I alone am to blame," were his last words.

Before I could prevent him, he had drawn a revolver from his pocket,
and put two bullets through his head.

CHAPTER X

THE ANSWER OF THE MIKADO

A week later, that is to say, on the 8th of February, 1904, I was in
Tokio.

The behavior of the Princess Y---- on hearing of the death of her
victim had been a strange mixture of heartlessness and hysterical
remorse.

At the first sound of th