friends had flown.

On forcing the door, we found the dining-table just as it had been left
after the poisoned snap-dragon of the previous night. Nothing had been
touched. Only Julie, the Baron, the man-servant, and the guests had all
gone, and the place was deserted.

The police were utterly puzzled at the entire absence of motive.

On my return to my rooms I found orders from Bindo to start at once for
Petersburg, which I was compelled to do. So I left London full of wonder
at my exciting experience, and not until my arrival at Wirballen, the
Russian frontier, six days later, did I discover that, though my
passport remained in my wallet, a special police permit to enable me to
pass in and out of the districts affected by the revolutionary Terror,
was missing! It was a permit which Blythe had cleverly obtained through
one of his friends, a high diplomatist, and without which I could not
move rapidly in Russia.

Was it possible that Julie and her friends had stolen it? Was it to be
believed that the scoundrelly Baron had attempted to take my life by
such dastardly trickery in order to secure that all-powerful document?

That it was of greatest value to any revolutionist I knew quite well,
for upon it was the signature of the Minister of the Interior, and its
bearer, immune from arrest or interference by the police, might come and
go in Russia without let or hindrance.

Were they Russians? Certainly the language they had spoken was not
Russian, but it might have been Polish. Where was the young man who had
been my fellow-victim?

Loss of this special permit caused me considerable inconvenience, for I
had to go to Moscow, and the Terror raging there, I had to get another
permit before I could pass and repass the military cordon.

Yes, Julie Rosier was a mystery. Indeed, the whole affair was a complete
enigma.

I duly returned to London, after assisting Bindo in trying to make a
_coup_ that was unfortunately in vain, and then learnt that the body of
an unknown young man in evening dress had been found in the river Crouch
in Essex, and from the photograph shown me at Scotland Yard I identified
it as that of my fellow-guest.

Through the whole year the adventure has sorely puzzled me, and only the
other day light was thrown upon it in the following manner--

I was in Petersburg again, when I received a polite note from General
Zuroff, the chief of police, requesting me to call upon him. The summons
caused me co