UC-NRLF 
 
 H r D 
 
Marshall C. Cheney 
 
THE MISSION OF POUBRLOV 
 
 BY 
 
 FREDERICK R. BURTON. 
 
 \h\V YORK 
 
 STRH1-T & SMITH, PUBLISHKKS 
 
 jt Rosi- STKHI-T 
 
Ex 
 
 M 
 /an CHfer 
 
 T 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGK 
 
 I Her Wedding Morning 7 
 
 II An Explanation Suggested 15 
 
 III An Imperfect Vision '23 
 
 IV Clara's Search Begins 31 
 
 V The Agent of the Czar 39 
 
 VI- Litizki at Work 47 
 
 VII A Dangerous Man 55 
 
 VIII -In the Hands of the Enemy 63 
 
 IX Litizki's Lesson 71 
 
 X Corroborative Detail 78 
 
 XI- Strange Exit of Poubalov 87 
 
 XII Litizki Breaks His Appointment 95 
 
 XIII What Became of Litizki 103 
 
 XIV A New Departure Ill 
 
 XV Louise lieceives a Caller 119 
 
 XVI Lizzie White 127 
 
 XVII How Litizki Saved Miss Hilman 135 
 
 XVIII The Key to Ivan's Prison 143 
 
 XIX -The Ghost of Poubalov 151 
 
 XX The Little Front Room . 159 
 
 XXI -What Paul Palovna Saw 167 
 
 XXII Ponbalov's Revolution 175 
 
 XXIII At One O'clock A.M 183 
 
 XXIV The New Clew 191 
 
 XXV -A Stubborn Antagonist 199 
 
 XXVI -Hide and Seek 207 
 
 XXVII Behind Closed Doors 216 
 
 XXVIII Poubalov Succeeds 225 
 
A WEDDING 
 BUT RATHER LATE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 
 
 Ivan pulled aside the curtain and looked up at the sky. 
 It was as clear as crystal, as blue as the eyes of his be- 
 loved, the promise fulfilled of a perfect day. On a win. 
 dow cornice across the street a tiny bird perked his head 
 toward the sun and chirped noisily. To a lively imagina- 
 tion kindled by fond anticipations the twittering of the 
 bird would have seemed like music. So it was to Ivan. 
 His heart responded with unformed melodies, and some 
 of their stray notes found their way humming to his 
 throat as he hastened his toilet. 
 
 A long process it was in spite of his haste. Every outer 
 garment, though but yesterday brought by the tailor, 
 had to be brushed with exquisite care, and when it came 
 to adjusting his tie, what with finding in the light of 
 this beautiful morning that not one of the numerous as- 
 sortment seemed to be bright enough for the occasion, 
 and having rejected all in turn, and having selected one 
 at last that might be made to do, and having found the 
 knot and loosed it well, time had passed, and under ordi- 
 nary circn-m stances patience might have gone with it. Or- 
 dinary, tlae circumstances were not, and if they had been 
 I presume any tie could have, and would have been 
 thrown together in a shape not less pleasing than that 
 which finally caused him to turn from the mirror in cheer- 
 ful despair and ring for breakfast. 
 
8 THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 
 
 for she had been expecting it with quivering anxietj r for 
 the last half hour. Good soul! With eggs at thirty-five 
 cents a dozen she nevertheless plunged two in hot water 
 every four minutes, in order that her lodger might not 
 trace the slightest sense of disappointment, on this event- 
 ful day, to her. 
 
 "I do hope his last breakfast here will be a pleasant 
 one, " she said when her daughter protested against the 
 extravagance. 
 
 There was certainly nothing in the plain breakfast to 
 call for criticism. Ivan might not have noticed it if there 
 had been, for his thoughts were elsewhere, and his emo- 
 tions were stirred by causes at once more delicate and 
 more powerful than appetite; but Mrs. White was prob- 
 ably in the right. It would have been a pity to permit 
 any chance of a jarring note however slight in the har- 
 mony that pervaded his being. 
 
 Ivan greeted his landlady gayly, and attacked his meal 
 as if there were no such thing as love in the world, love 
 that makes man melancholy, that destroys the delights of 
 good living, that drives him to the production of gloomy 
 wails in more or less eccentric verse. There was no such 
 love for him. Out of the storm and stress of an event- 
 ful career, in which misfortune had rained its blows upon 
 him with undue severity, love had arisen like the com- 
 forting glow of b. home hearth fire, and it shone upon his 
 exile with naught in its beams but serenity and peace. 
 Ivan was happy. 
 
 Breakfast was hardly begun when Mrs. White again ap- 
 peared. 
 
 "There's a gentleman to see you, Mr. Strobel, " she said 
 hesitatingly; "I didn't like to disturb you, but he seemed 
 very anxious, and so I said I would see if you were at 
 home." 
 
 She laid a card upon the breakfast table and waited. 
 Ivan glanced at it and frowned. So, there must needs 
 be a cloud upon this day to remind him, as if he needed it! 
 
THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 9 
 
 how surely the sun of happiness was shining for him. Al- 
 exander Poubalov ! What could he be doing in America, 
 and what could have led him to call at just this juncture? 
 Bah ! there could be no significance in it, nothing but a 
 memory of troublous experiences could be evoked by his 
 presence, nothing connected with that past could possibly 
 intervene now between him and the new life upon which 
 he was joyously entering. 
 
 Mrs. White was sorely distressed, for she saw that her 
 lodger was disturbed, and in her motherly heart she 
 wished that she had told the stranger below one of those 
 white lies that have come to be regarded as not sinful in 
 that they effect at least a postponement of evil. She 
 might have said that Mr. Strobel was engaged, or that he 
 had given up his room a week before. Both statements 
 would have been true enough for the Recording Angel's 
 book, goodness knows! 
 
 "If you had only just gone, or if he had come an hour 
 later," she murmured plaintively. 
 
 "Oh, there's nothing the matter, " cried Ivan, lightly; 
 "I was simply wondering what in the world he could want 
 with me. I haven't seen him for five years. Show him 
 up, please." 
 
 Not half satisfied that nothing was the matter, Mrs. 
 White obeyed, and presently Alexander Poubalov stood 
 upon the threshold. He was a distinguished-looking man, 
 tall, swarthy, middle-aged, a remarkable contrast to his 
 fair-haired fellow countryman, Ivan Strobel. 
 
 "I am indeeed glad to see you, Strobel, " he said, his 
 deep tones vibrant as a church bell; "may I come in?" 
 
 "I received your card and I sent for you," replied Ivan, 
 coldly. He had risen and was standing by the breakfast 
 table. 
 
 "I shall be sorry if I have disturbed you, for I had no 
 such purpose in calling upon you. Pray go on with your 
 breakfast," and Poubalov took a step or two forward, as if 
 waiting for an invitation to sit down. 
 
 Mrs. White was prompt in responding to the summons, 
 
10 THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 
 
 "To what purpose, then, may I attribute your call?" 
 asked Ivan, without stirring. 
 
 "You are in haste, my friend," replied Poubalov, smil- 
 ing; "you have probably learned the American habit of 
 putting business ahead of all other things ; but I see, too, 
 that there may be some especial reason to-day for hurry. 
 You are dressed to go out, and you have packed your 
 trunks " 
 
 "It is quite like you," interrupted Ivan, "to note every 
 detail and attach some significance of your own to it. You 
 are right, however, on this occasion. Time is precious 
 with me to-day. I am to be married at noon." 
 
 "Ah! married! Strobel,"and Poubalov made as if he 
 would extend his hand, "I wish you would permit me to 
 congratulate you." 
 
 "It is unnecessary, " responded Ivan, remaining like a 
 statue by his chair. 
 
 Poubalov shrugged his shoulders and looked disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 "As you will," he said, "and perhaps it would be as 
 well to postpone my call, as it seems you regard it as an 
 unhappy intrusion." 
 
 "If you have any business other than that attending to 
 a spy in general, " said Ivan, "I shall be pleased if you 
 will dispatch it now. If, on the contrary, you still have 
 any interest in my movements, I will give you my itiner- 
 ary, and you can follow me if you like. I will only sug- 
 gest that we are not in Russia, and that it is not my in- 
 tention to go outside the jurisdiction of the United 
 States." 
 
 "You need only tell me, if you have no objection," re- 
 plied Poubalov, "where I may look for you some time 
 after your wedding journey." 
 
 Ivan picked up Poubalov 's card and wrote an address 
 upon it. "I shall live there," he said, handing the card to 
 his caller. "I expect to return in two weeks." 
 
 Poubalov read the card and thoughtfully placed it in his 
 pocketbook. "If I knew how to, Strobel, " he remarked 
 
THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 11 
 
 gravely, "I would assure you that you need have no 
 anxiety on my account during your honeymoon, or after- 
 ward; but I see clearly that now, as heretofore, you will 
 place no reliance whatever upon my words, and that you 
 discredit my motives." 
 
 "You speak truly," said Ivan; "but we will not discuss 
 the reasons for my distrust. You know them even better 
 than I do. You may spare yourself any words. I shall not 
 be disturbed by anxiety." 
 
 "On another occasion, then, I may hope for a somewhat 
 extended conversation. Good-morning. My good wishes 
 would doubtless be repugnant to you." 
 
 Ivan bowed silently and Poubalov withdrew. 
 
 "Strange that I should be pursued after all this lapse of 
 time, and to this far country," thought Ivan; "but I have 
 done right. I have nothing to fear from Poubalov or the 
 government whose paid spy he is ' 
 
 He looked at his watch, and, resuming his place at the 
 table, hastily swallowed a cup of coffee. Mrs. White's 
 eggs remained unbroken. 
 
 A carriage was waiting for him at the door and it was 
 time that he should go, for the wedding was to take place 
 at Rev. Dr. Merrill's little church in Eoxbury, four miles 
 away. With moderate driving and no accident he would 
 be there in time to meet the bridal party at the door. A 
 happy farewell to his landlady and her daughter, and he 
 was off. 
 
 He did not notice that as his coupe turned into Somer- 
 set Street from Ashburton Place, a closed carriage left its 
 position not far from Mrs. White's door and followed. If 
 he had observed it he would have thought nothing of it, 
 for in Boston other persons besides bridegrooms employ 
 public conveyances, and it is not always that a cabman is 
 employed to drive a fare to a wedding. 
 
 Ivan's coupe rolled gently down Park Street, and just 
 as it reached the corner of Tremont, one of the forward 
 wheels came off. The passenger was precipitated forward, 
 and the driver with difficulty kept his seat. He climbed 
 
12 THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 
 
 down in a moment, angry and bewildered. He could dis- 
 cover no break about his vehicle, but there was the wi 
 upon the ground, there was the body leaning forward, 
 straining upon the shafts, disconcerting the horse 
 
 "Open the door!" cried Ivan, imperatively; "I can't be 
 shut up here!" 
 
 The driver got the door open after a little trouble and 
 Ivan crawled out. 
 
 "I don't see how it happened," began the driver. 
 
 "No matter. It can't be helped in a minute, can it? I 
 must have another conveyance." 
 
 A crowd was quickly gathering, and as Ivan looked 
 around him he caught the eye of the driver of the closed 
 carriage. 
 
 "Are you engaged?" called Ivan. Then, as the driver 
 signified his willingness to take a fare, Ivan recoiled. The 
 carriage looked as if it were on the way to a funeral. He 
 hated presentiments, and despised himself for the momen- 
 tary feeling of discomfort. 
 
 "You can pull down the curtains, sir, after you get in," 
 said the driver as if he had noticed his prospective passen- 
 ger's discomfort. "Where to, sir?" he continued with his 
 hand on the door. 
 
 Ivan told him and with a "Hurry, please, " bolted into 
 the carriage. 
 
 The driver sprang to his seat as if his salvation de- 
 ponded on his speed, lashed his horse heavily, and the 
 carriage fairly leaped through the crowd and down Tre- 
 mont Street. It was a beautiful June morning and the 
 passenger was on his way to his own wedding, but he did 
 not lower the curtains of the gloomy carriage. 
 
 A gentle quiver of excitement stirred the congregation 
 that filled the little vine-covered church on Parker Ave- 
 nue as the clock tolled the noon hour aid the organist be- 
 gan to play softly, his fingers weaving scraps of melody 
 into a vague but pleasing harmony like the light that fil- 
 tered through the stained glass windows. This was but 
 
THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 13 
 
 the suggestion of a coming outburst of harmony, for pres- 
 ently, as the joyful procession would be ready to move, 
 he would open all the gates of sound and flood the edifice 
 with the triumphal strains of the Wedding March, strains 
 that seem light and music, too, to all listeners and be- 
 holders. Within the vestibule the bridal party awaited the 
 coming of the groom. There, too, were Ivan's two friends, 
 to do him honor by marching with him ; one a Eussian 
 like himself, the other an American. With smiling faces 
 they all endeavored to conceal annoyance that was 
 speedily turning to anxiety over Ivan's delay. 
 
 Clara Hilman, as lovely a bride as ever donned the 
 orange-decked veil, stood with palpitating heart beside 
 her uncle and guardian, Matthew Pembroke. With awk- 
 ward words he was trying to soothe what he felt must be 
 her fears. All about them were pretty children dressed to 
 follow the bride, and Clara's dearest girl friends. Within 
 the chancel Di. Merrill waited, wondering a little, but 
 not permitting himself to attach hasty blame to anybody 
 for this embarrassing hitch in the proceedings. The or- 
 ganist looked inquiringly at the group that had found 
 places in the choir loft and they returned his gaze by 
 shakes of the head. 
 
 "You are more nervous than I am, uncle," said Clara 
 with an attempt at bravery, though her trembling lips 
 betrayed her; "he will be here." 
 
 "There he is!" cried Ralph Harmon, one of Ivan's 
 friends, as a carriage was seen to turn into the avenue 
 from a street a little way off, and come hurrying toward 
 the church. "Be ready to tell the organist," he whispered 
 to a boy who stood near. 
 
 The waiting procession fell into partial disarray as 
 every one craned his or her neck to see the bridegroom 
 step from the carriage which now halted at the steps All, 
 nearly all, could see through the open doors as the driver 
 dismounted and opened the door. 
 
 A shiver of disappointment passed over the wedding 
 
U THEIR WEDDING MORNING, 
 
 party. An old, bent man issued from the carriage, leaning 
 heavily on a cane and hobbled up the steps. 
 
 "This is stranger than Ivan's delay!" exclaimed Har- 
 mon in a whisper to his Russian colleague; "I don't be- 
 lieve old Dexter ever went to a wedding before unless it 
 was his own, and I never knew he was married." 
 
 "Who is he?" asked the Russian. 
 
 "Old Dexter is all I can say. He's a kind of miser and 
 money-lender combined, I think. I don't believe he's any 
 friend of Ivan's." 
 
 "No. He's bowing to Mr. Pembroke." 
 
 Very ceremoniously but with a halting movement, the 
 old man had taken off his hat to Mr. Pembroke and passed 
 on into the church. Mr. Pembroke had bowed stiffly in 
 return and then bent over his niece to speak to her. 
 
 Clara was by this time plainly disturbed. It was a 
 quarter past the hour, and the congregation itself was 
 getting nervous. A few persons came out into the vesti- 
 bule to learn what caused the delay. The organist's flit- 
 ting harmonies became monotonous, intolerable, and the 
 rector within the chancel was not so impatient as alarmed. 
 
 A few minutes later the organist stopped altogether. 
 The rector joined the wedding party in the vestibule. 
 Clara had been taken to a room in the vestry by her 
 guardian. 
 
 "If he should come now," said Mr. Pembroke, gravely, 
 I don't believe we could go on. The strain has been too 
 great for Clara." 
 
 Dr. Merrill spoke to her as only a clergyman can speak 
 to a parishioner, and minutes dragged along. 
 
 At last when an hour had passed, and there was yet no 
 word from Ivan, the rector dismissed the congregation, 
 and the members of the wedding party went homeward, 
 wondering and sorrowful. 
 
AN EXPLANA TION S UG GESTED. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. 
 
 "Wait for me a moment, Paul," said Ralph Harmon as 
 the people began to pour out of the church. 
 
 He went to the room in the vestry where Clara Hilman 
 sat pale and tearless. With her were Mr. Pembroke, his 
 daughter Louise, and two or three other young ladies who 
 were intimate friends of the unfortunate bride. Ralph did 
 not approach the group, -but paused at the door and looked 
 significantly at Miss Pembroke. She went to him at once, 
 and, unseen by the others, he took both her hands in his 
 and said: 
 
 " I am going to Strobel's room and shall take PaloTna 
 with me. If I find any trace or news, as I undoubtedly 
 shall, I will go directly to your house and report. You 
 may tell Hiss Hilman so if you think it will relieve her." 
 
 "Clara, dear!" exclaimed Miss Pembroke, impulsively, 
 "Ralph is going to find Ivan, and will come back as 
 quickly as he can to tell you." 
 
 For several minutes the bride had been sitting as if pet- 
 rified, making no answer to the well-meant questions of 
 her friends, unconscious apparently of their tearful sym- 
 pathy, but at this announcement her eyes were lit by just 
 a gleam of gratitude and she tried to speak to Ralph. Her 
 lips quivered with unformed words, and she turned ap- 
 pealingly to her uncle. 
 
 "Come," she faltered, "let us go home." 
 
 Ralph bowed and returned immediately to the vesti- 
 bule, where Paul Palovna waited for him. Both were ac- 
 costed by many of the outgoing audience, but they shook 
 their heads and hurried down the steps and up the street 
 to the nearest line of cars. They said little to each other 
 
16 AN EXPLANATION SUG GESTED. 
 
 on the way to Ashburton Place, for they were oppressed 
 with forebodings, and the consciousness that they had 
 nothing upon which to base speculation. 
 
 Once Ralph exclaimed desperately, "What can have 
 happened!" and Paul answered, "He must have fallen 
 violently ill." Both hoped that this might be the case, 
 and neither believed it. Mrs. White knew them both, for 
 they were frequent callers upon her lodger, and her sur- 
 prise, therefore, passed all bounds when she met them 
 at the door and heard them ask as with one voice, "Where 
 isStrobel?" 
 
 "Where?" she repeated, "where should he be? Haven't 
 you seen him?" 
 
 "No, " replied Ralph, *' he did not come to the church, 
 and the rector dismissed the congregation." 
 
 Mrs. White threw up her hands and sank into a chair. 
 "Why why " she stammered, "he left here all dressed 
 and gay as could be." 
 
 "Did he seem quite well?" asked Paul. 
 
 The good lady remembered her surprise and disappoint- 
 ment at finding Ivan's eggs unbroken, his breakfast almost 
 untasted and she told the young men about it. 
 
 "That signifies nothing," said Paul; "I don't wonder 
 he didn't care to eat. Did he appear to be troubled about 
 anything?" 
 
 "Not when he went away," answered Mrs. White; "I 
 thought he seemed put out when the strange gentleman 
 called." 
 
 "There we have it!" exclaimed Paul, eagerly. "Who 
 was the caller and what was his business, if you happen 
 to know?" 
 
 "1 don't know either. I never saw the gentleman be- 
 fore. He was here only a few minutes. He sent up his 
 card, and though I looked at the name, I couldn't remem- 
 ber it, for it had a strange look, something like yours." 
 "May we go to his room? The card may still be there." 
 "I don't think it is," said Mrs. White, rising to follow 
 
AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. 17 
 
 the young men who were already half way up the stairs; 
 "I don't remember seeing it when I cleaned up." 
 
 When Ralph and Paul had vainly examined the catch- 
 alls, the vases, and every probable place into which a vis- 
 itor's card might have been tucked, the Russian asked 
 what had been done with the contents of the waste 
 basket. 
 
 "My daughter Lizzie helped me, " replied Mrs. White, 
 "and took the waste papers downstairs. I'll ask her to 
 find them and look for the card." 
 
 She left the room, and while she was gone the young 
 men moved about nervously, repeatedly asking who the 
 caller could have been, what possible connection his call 
 could have had with Ivan's failure to appear at his wed- 
 'ding, and all manner of questions, vain and irritating, that 
 arise when men are confronted by an emergency that 
 teems with mystery. Mrs. White reported that her 
 daughter had gone out and that the waste paper from 
 Mr. Strobel's room had been burned. 
 
 "Lizzie may have seen that card, "she said, "and I'll 
 ask her when she comes in. I can't think where she can 
 have gone." 
 
 "Was she here when the stranger called?" asked 
 Ralph. 
 
 "Oh, yes, and until after Mr. Strobel started away. I 
 didn't know that she had left the house, and I can't imag- 
 in what she went out for. Perhaps she'll be back soon." 
 
 "Do you know where Strobel hired his carriage?" 
 inquired Paul. 
 
 "No, I don't, Lizzie might, for I remember he said 
 something to her about it the day before. I wonder 
 where she " 
 
 "He probably ordered his carriage from Clark & 
 Brown, " said Ralph to Paul. He had no intention of ig- 
 noring Mrs. White's motherly anxiety about her daugh- 
 ter, but he saw no reason for attaching significance to her 
 absence, and his mind was burdened with a growing con- 
 viction that something serious had happened to his friend. 
 
18 AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. 
 
 "Suppose we make some inquiries," responded Paul. 
 "If you will go to Clark & Brown's office, I will take a 
 run around all the hotel cab-stands in the vicinity. He 
 might have left his order at the Tremont House or in Bos- 
 worth Street, you know." 
 
 "I'm agreed, " said Ralph. "We must get hold of the 
 man who drove him. One of us is likely to succeed. Sup- 
 pose, as Strobel may after all turn up at any minute, we 
 meet here as soon as we can. I'll take in the Revere 
 House as well as Clark & Brown's." 
 
 "I wish you would meet here, gentlemen," interposed 
 Mrs. White; "Lizzie may be back then." 
 
 "I hope she will be, Mrs. White," said Ralph. "She 
 may be able to tell us something about Strobel. It seems 
 strange that he hasn't sent some word." 
 
 "I begin to fear that we shall find him at a hospital, 
 badly injured," remarked Paul. 
 
 "Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed Mrs. White. "I declare! 
 it makes me feel dreadfully about Lizzie." 
 
 The young men departed at once upon their errands. It 
 was Paul Palovna who came upon a clew. He found 
 where Ivan had engaged his carriage, and he went to the 
 livery stable, which was in the South End, to find what 
 had become of the driver and his passenger. He arrived 
 there just after the driver had come in with his damaged 
 carriage. 
 
 "I started in with the gentleman," said the driver, 
 "but I broke down at the corner of Tremont and Park 
 Streets and he went along with somebody else." 
 
 "Who was it?" asked Paul. 
 
 "I don't know. I never saw the cabman before." 
 
 "Whose rig was it?" 
 
 "I don't know that, either. I never saw the horse be- 
 fore, and the carriage was like hundreds of others that 
 you might see in Boston any day." 
 
 Paul tried to think what ought to be done next. 
 
 "Did Mr. Strobel have a second accident?" asked one of 
 the stable proprietors. 
 
AN EXPLANATION SUG GESTED. 19 
 
 "I fear so," replied Paul; "we haven't seen him, and as 
 he was going to his own wedding, his failure to turn up is 
 rather alarming." 
 
 "Going to be married, was he?" the stableman spoke 
 thoughtfully. "Then I guess you'll find that he has been 
 made the victim of a practical joke. I suppose he had 
 plenty of friends who were aware of his intentions?" 
 
 "Certainly, but I cannot imagine," said Paul with some 
 indignation, "that any of them would have carried a joke 
 to the extent of keeing him away from his wedding." 
 
 "Perhaps not, " admitted the stableman, "but it looks 
 as if some one had deliberately tried to delay him. Don't 
 you know how the accident happened to our carriage?" 
 
 "No. What was the matter?" 
 
 "Somebody had loosened the nut of the forward right 
 wheel so that it was bound to come off before they had 
 gone very far. The breakdown was no accident." 
 
 "You are sure of this, I suppose," exclaimed Paul; "but 
 when could it have been done?" 
 
 "When Mike was waiting in front of the door to Mr. 
 Strobel's place. You'd better tell this gentleman what 
 you told me, Mike." 
 
 "I waited there a good half hour before Mr. Strobel came 
 out," replied the driver. "And while I was there a fellow 
 crossed the street and spoke to me. He stood in the street 
 kind o' leaning on the wheel. 'Go'n' to take Mr. Strobel 
 to his wedding?' says he. 'I'm go'n' to take a gent of that 
 name,' says I 'but I don't know nothing 'bout his wed- 
 ding.' 'That's what 'tis,' says he, 'and a very fine man he 
 is, and a fine day it is for the ceremony; and that's a fine 
 horse you have, ' and all that kind of palaver, till I 
 thought he'd talk me blind. After a while he said good- 
 morning, and went on, bad luck to him." 
 
 Paul looked at the stableman in surprise. "Could the 
 nut have been removed then without the driver knowing 
 it? "he asked. 
 
 ; 'Yes, but it wasn't necessarily removed. It may have 
 been started. You get up on the seat and sit back indiffer- 
 
20 AN EXPLANA TION S UG GESTED. 
 
 ently, as a driver would be likely to sit. Just try it. I 
 want you to be satisfied." 
 
 Paul climbed to the driver's seat on the coupe, and the 
 stableman leaned over the wheel. 
 
 " You see," said the latter, "unless you bent over and 
 looked down sharply you wouldn't make out what I was 
 up to, and not having any reason to suspect a trick, you'd 
 likely sit still; more likely than not, if you was an ordi- 
 nary driver, you'd look the other way most of the time; 
 and but I don't need to talk any longer for here is the 
 nut!" and he held up a small wrench in which was the 
 nut of the wheel by which he was standing. 
 
 "Great Scott!" exclaimed Paul, smiling, in spite of his 
 anxiety, at the dexterous way in which the stableman had 
 proved that the trick might have been done. " What sort 
 of man was this, Mike, who talked to you?" 
 
 "I dunuo, sir. Medium sized, young, I should say." 
 
 "Would you know him again?" 
 
 "I would that!" 
 
 "By the way, did you see anybody call at the house 
 while you were waiting?" 
 
 "Yes, a gentleman went in. I heard him ask for Mr. 
 Strobel, and he came out again inside of five minutes." 
 
 "What was he like and where did he go?" 
 
 "I couldn't tell you what he was like. I paid no atten- 
 tion to him. He went away toward Somerset Street. The 
 fellow at the wheel was talking to me as he went along." 
 
 This was all the information of value that Paul could 
 obtain, although he asked many more questions. He 
 found Ralph waiting for him in Ivan's room, and Mrs. 
 White was there, overcome with anxiety on account of the 
 continued absence of her daughter. 
 
 "I think," said Ralph when he had heard his friend's re- 
 port, "that we'd better speak of this at police headquar- 
 ters." 
 
 "Are you going to say anything about Lizzie?" asked 
 Mrs. White. 
 
AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. 21 
 
 'Certainly not, unless you wish it. She will doubtless 
 come in before evening." 
 
 "I don't know," murmured the landlady, despairingly; 
 "she didn't say a word about going out, and I'm dread- 
 fully afraid! I can't find her little traveling bag " 
 
 She stopped suddenly as Paul wheeled about and 
 glanced at her with a startled glance. There was a mo- 
 ment of silence, and then the Russian said quietly : "I 
 will come back early in the evening, Mrs. White, and if 
 your daughter has not appeared, I'll help you to make in- 
 quiries. We must look after Strobel now." 
 
 The young men reported the circumstances at police 
 headquarters and then went to Roxbury. It was five 
 o'clock when they arrived at Mr. Pembroke's house, and 
 they cherished a hope that some word from Ivan, if not 
 Ivan himself, would be found there. They were disap- 
 pointed. Louise Pembroke told them that nothing had oc- 
 curred except that Clara had succumbed to the shock and 
 strain, and was under the care of a physician. 
 
 "About an hour ago she broka down and cried, "said 
 Louise, "and the physician said it was the best thing that 
 could have happened to her. He would have been afraid 
 to have Ivan return before that. Now she is not in any 
 immediate danger." 
 
 "Are you going to tell her what we have done'?' asked 
 Ralph. 
 
 "Yes. I'll do so now." 
 
 Louise found her cousin calm and hopeful. 
 
 "Ralph has come back," said Clara. "I heard the bell, 
 and knew it must be he. Well?" 
 
 "Ralph says, dear," replied Louise, "that Ivan started 
 for the church in a carriage, and that there was a break- 
 down on the way that appears to have been caused by a 
 trick. He then took another carriage, and after that they 
 do not know what became of him." 
 
 "Lou, " said the sufferer, "I suppose people would ex- 
 pect that I should feel humiliation most of all, but I don't, 
 and if I did I should no longer feel it now that I know 
 
22 AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. 
 
 Ivan started for the church. Don't you see? He meant to 
 come, of course ! Something dreadful has happened to 
 him " Her eyes filled with tears, and she paused a 
 moment before continuing: "There must be more details, 
 of course, but I am not well enough yet to hear them. 
 Ask Ralph and Paul to come to-morow morning, will you, 
 please? I must talk with them." 
 
 "I will," replied Louise; "Ivan may come before that." 
 
 Ralph went to his home immediately after leaving Mr. 
 Pembroke's, but Paul, who had no other home than a 
 furnished room in a lodging house, returned according 
 to his promise to see Mrs. White. He felt that there 
 might be a chance that the daughter, Lizzie, could throw 
 some light on Ivan's movements, but he had no doubt 
 whatever that she herself had returned. He reached the 
 house just as a postman was leaving it. Mrs, White stood 
 in the hall, the door remaining opeD, nervously opening 
 a letter. When she had read it she screamed, and would 
 have fallen to the floor had not Paul sprung forward to 
 catch her. She recovered in a moment sufficiently to sob: 
 
 "I'm so glad you've come. Lizzie has gone! Read what 
 she says." 
 
 Paul took the letter which she tremblingly handed him 
 and read: 
 
 "DEAR MOTHER: I am going away and shall not come back for a 
 long time. Do not be anxious, and do not try to find me. You ate 
 not to blame for anything, and I cannot now tell you why I go. 
 Some time I may do so, and I may write to you. I don't know yet. 
 Do not think unkindly of me. You will know some time that it is 
 best. I love you and " 
 
 Two words here had been laboriously scratched out. 
 Then came the signature, "Lizzie." Paul made out the 
 erased words to be "I love." 
 
 In spite of himself a dreadful fear came over him, a 
 fear of something more painful for all of Ivan's friends 
 to bear than an accident, no matter how serious. 
 
AN IMPERFECT VISION. 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN IMPERFECT VISION. 
 
 Ivan Strobel had been a lodger in Mrs. White's house 
 for more than two years. During the greater part of that 
 period he had been the only lodger, and from the begin- 
 ning his relations with his landladj r had been more as if 
 he were a friend of the family than merely a tenant. His 
 evenings were not infrequently spent in Mrs. White's sit- 
 ting-room, where his strongly domestic nature found some 
 comfort in reading aloud to the old lady and her daughter, 
 or in playing cards, or in telling them stories of European 
 life. Sometimes his friends would call, and find him there 
 instead of in his own room, and more than once he had 
 been the target for good-humored chaffing relative to his 
 supposed fondness for the landlady's daughter. 
 
 On such occasions Strobel laughed lightly, as if it were 
 out of the question that anybody should seriously harbor 
 a supposition that he was in love with Lizzie. That was in 
 the comparatively early days of his residence there ; and 
 one afternoon, about a year before his eventful wedding 
 morning, Ralph Harmon and Paul Palovna called together 
 and found him in his own quarters, serving Russian tea to 
 Mrs. White and her daughter. He was evidently delighted 
 to see his friends, and he promptly set glasses of the fra- 
 grant, hot beverage before them. Mrs. White was enthusi- 
 astic in her praise of the tea, as well she might be, for 
 Russians are past-masters in the art of tea-brewing, and 
 Ivan was one of the most skillful ; and she slyly intimated 
 that the woman who would have the first place in his 
 future household would do well to place him in charge of 
 the kitchen. 
 
 Ivan smiled and blushed as if pleased at the allusion, 
 
24 AN IMPERFECT VISION. 
 
 and while his friends commended the idea with nois.y 
 laughter, Miss Lizzie sat silent, sipping her tea with down- 
 cast eyes. Shortly afterward the ladies withdrew, and 
 Palovna immediately began to tease Strobel about Lizzie. 
 
 "On my word, Ivan," he cried, "you begin very badly. 
 If you show her what a fine hand you have for kitchen- 
 work, you'll never have any time to yourself after you're 
 married. It's a fine thing to serve tea to your friends 
 when you're a bachelor, but fancy a man setting the ket- 
 tle to boil for his wife! Great Scott! what a picture!" 
 
 Both visitors laughed heartily, but Strobel, with a grave 
 smile, held up one hand deprecatingly. 
 
 "I don't mind your raillery in the least," he said, "but 
 it does injustice to the young lady who is the innocent 
 subject of it rather than myself. I'm glad you came in as 
 you did, for I have something to tell you, and, in fact, it 
 was to tell Mrs. White and Lizzie the same thing that I in- 
 vited them to take tea with me. I am engaged to Miss 
 Hilman." 
 
 "I'm mighty glad to hear it, and I congratulate you," 
 exclaimed Ralph, jumping up and grasping Ivan by the 
 hand. 
 
 "And I, too," said Paul, not less sincerely; "pardon my 
 joking. I hadn't suspected that the wind blew from that 
 direction. When is it to be?" 
 
 Then Strobel told them about his plans, and from that 
 day until this minute, when Paul stood by the weeping 
 landlady, with her daughter's incoherent letter in his 
 hand, he had never associated Ivan and Lizzie in any 
 other way than as ordinary friends. When, earlier in the 
 afternoon, Mrs. White had said something that seemed to 
 suggest the possibility that they had gone away together, 
 Paul's indignation had been aroused, and it was with an 
 effort that he had mastered his tongue, which fairly 
 burned to deny such an outrageous assumption. He had 
 dismissed the thought later, with the conviction that 
 Mrs. W T hite could not have realized the true significance 
 of her words. 
 
AN IMPERFECT VISION. 25 
 
 Now, utterly at a loss to account for his friends' ab- 
 sence, be was compelled to face any suggestion that arose 
 and make the best of it. 
 
 "There is at least some comfort in this, Mrs. White," he 
 said, unsteadily; "you know that your daughter is alive, 
 and she says she may write to you. She would not have 
 written this had she meant to hide herself completely 
 from you." 
 
 The mother's anguish was not to be tempered with this 
 argument. The poignant fact remained that her daughter 
 had gone away, deserted her home, and neglected delib- 
 erately to take her mother into her confidence. 
 
 "How could she?" moaned Mrs. White; "why, oh, why 
 has she done this?" 
 
 Paul had hard questions to ask, hard for him as well as 
 for her. 
 
 "Mrs. White," he said, "you have shown me Lizzie's 
 letter; will you let me help you if "I can?" 
 
 "Yes, yes! "she answered eagerly, raising her tearful 
 eyes. The very proffer of sympathy and assistance helped 
 to restore her to some degree of composure," and she 
 opened the door to the sitting-ioom. "I forgot where we 
 were, " she said apologetically; "please come in and sit 
 down." 
 
 Paul complied, and, still with the letter in his hand, be- 
 gan: "I shall have to ask questions that would be imper- 
 tinent if you had not said that I might try to help you. 
 Do you was Lizzie engaged?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" replied Mrs. White, with a little gasp; "what 
 made you think so?" 
 
 "I don't think so, and what I really tried to ask was 
 whether she were in love with anybody?" 
 
 Mrs. White looked doubtfully at him. Her eyes were 
 dry, now, and she toyed nervously with her apron. 
 
 "My daughter didn't tell me she was going away," she 
 answered slowly after a minute; "if she wouldn't tell me 
 that, how should you expect that she would speak to me 
 of her love if she did love anybody?" 
 
26 AN IMPERFECT VISION. 
 
 Paul was somewhat nettled at this apparent effort to 
 juggle with his question. The situation seemed to him too 
 serious to admit of anything but the most complete frank- 
 ness. 
 
 "I don't ask how you know, or why you don't, Mrs. 
 White," he said as gently as he could; "I simply asked for 
 a statement of fact." 
 
 The landlady looked down at the floor, evidently trying 
 to frame an answer. Paul would have dropped the matter 
 right there, disgusted at her reticence if not her indirec- 
 tion, had he not been determined to learn everything pos- 
 sible that might throw light upon the fate of his friends. 
 So he began on another tack. 
 
 "Weren't you invited to Strobel's wedding, Mrs. 
 White?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," she replied promptly, not suspecting the ulti- 
 mate aim of the question; "both of us received invita- 
 tions." 
 
 "Why didn't you go?" 
 
 "Lizzie didn't want to go. She said weddings always 
 made her feel solemn, and I didn't want to go without 
 her." 
 
 "Wasn't there a deeper reason, Mrs. White, for your 
 daughter's reluctance to go to Ivan Strobel's wedding?" 
 
 "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Palovna," said the 
 landlady, glancing at him and averting her eyes. 
 
 Paul wanted to tell her that she was trying to dodge 
 him, but he controlled himself and said: 
 
 "I mean that in my opinion your daughter was hope- 
 lessly in love with Ivan." 
 
 This statement did not provoke the storm that Paul had 
 expected. Mrs. White's reserve had prepared him for an 
 outburst of denials, indignant tears and the like, but the 
 old lady sat very still, her hands clasped upon her lap, 
 and after a little silence she spoke dreamily : 
 
 "Lizzie never told me, but I guessed as much long ago, 
 poor, dear girl!" 
 
 Paul's heart sank as he felt his fears growing to con vie. 
 
AN IMPERFECT VISION. 27 
 
 tion that the flight of Lizzie White was closely connected 
 with the disappearance of Ivan Strobel. He was not dis- 
 loyal to his friend even in his thoughts; he kept insisting 
 to himself that Ivan was not the man to play all his friends 
 double, but even as he rebelled against this possible ex- 
 planation of the matter, reason interposed its stern voice 
 to say that if, after all, Strobel had discovered that he 
 loved Lizzie and not Clara, this was the probable course 
 he would take to avoid facing the comments and criticisms 
 of his friends; and although he repelled the explanation 
 with all his will, he nevertheless felt a dreadful sense of 
 doubt. 
 
 "Mrs. White," he said gravely, "have you any reason 
 to think th.it Strobel and your daughter went away to- 
 gether?" 
 
 The landlady started as if she had been shot. 
 
 "Of course not!" she cried; "how could you think such 
 
 a thing? Why should you insult my poor child " and 
 
 she broke down and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 Palovna was miserable. He saw that he had utterly 
 misinterpreted Mrs. White's reluctance in answering 
 his questions ; that, far from suspecting that Lizzie's de- 
 parture might be an elopement with Ivan, she had in- 
 stinctively tried to guard her daughter's secret. 
 
 "lam exceedingly sorry that I have hurt you," said Paul, 
 contritely, "I don't think, cannot think that they have 
 gone together; but, you see, I am in such a maze of 
 anxiety about Strobel, everything is so strange and uncer- 
 tain, that I I hardly knew what I said." 
 
 He paused, and Mrs. White, still sobbing, uttered some 
 words of which the only one he understood was "cruel, " 
 and he promptly accepted it as applied to himself. 
 
 "I can only repeat that I am sorry," he said. "Here is 
 your letter. I fear I can be of no help to you unless you 
 want me to take some message for you." 
 
 "No you cannot do anything now I know you didn't 
 mean it. Please come again to-morrow when I can think 
 please, Mr. Palovna." 
 
28 AN IMPERFECT VISION. 
 
 So Paul left the house, wondering whether Mrs. White 
 felt any unhappier than himself. 
 
 He turned into Pemberton Square, and went as far as 
 the door to police headquarters, halted abruptly and 
 turned away. He could not be the one to fasten a suspi- 
 cion of such a character upon his missing friend. If it 
 were true that he had eloped, that ugly fact would be es- 
 tablished soon enough without his giving any hints to the 
 police detectives who were assigned to hunt for Ivan. 
 
 The doctor had ordered Clara Hilman to bed, and under 
 the first prostration of the blow she had willingly obeyed; 
 but as evening came on and her mind cleared, she felt 
 stronger, and at supper time ghe arose and dressed. She 
 did not go down to the dining-room, and Louise brought 
 delicacies to her chamber. She wished that Ralph and 
 Paul would return, for she felt that she could talk with 
 them now, and she longed intensely for any word, how- 
 ever insignificant, concerning her lover's movements. 
 Louise sat with her, making well-intended efforts to dis- 
 tract her attention from the subject that was so terribly 
 engrossing, and offering the comfort of hopeful assur- 
 ances when it was evident that Clara could think of 
 nothing else. 
 
 The fact was that Louise disturbed Clara. Her thoughts 
 were fixed in their own channel, and so obstinately clung 
 there that it grew wearisome to attend to the interrup- 
 tions that Louise was constantly making. So Clara said at 
 last: 
 
 "I think, dear, if you will forgive me, I would like to 
 be alone a little while. I will call if I want anything." 
 
 "To be sure, Clara," responded Louise, rising at once 
 and putting her arms affectionately around her cousin ; "I 
 will go to my own room, and will come the minute you 
 need me. Shall I get you anything to read?" 
 
 "No, I cannot do anything but think, and I must think. 
 Don't be alarmed. I am not going to let myself become 
 ill." 
 
 There was a faint, sweet smile upon her sad lips as she 
 
AN IMPERFECT VISION. 29 
 
 spolie, and, left to herself, she sat leaning slightly for- 
 ward, her chin upon one hand, the other clinched upon 
 her lap, gazing intently at the wall which she saw not. In 
 its place was the carriage in front of Mrs. White's house, 
 and as she watched it she saw the house door open and 
 Ivan, her Ivan, come forth. She saw him turn to say 
 good-by to the kind-hearted landlady, saw the happy 
 smile upon his face, saw him enter the carriage, saw it 
 start slowly away. 
 
 This much of h^r lover's wedding journey was as clearly 
 before her as if it were now occurring, and she were at a 
 window in the house across the way from Mrs. White's in 
 Ashburton Place. Her nerves strained to their utmost 
 tension, she tried to follow the carriage. She could see 
 that it turned into Somerset Street, but when it seemed 
 to be at Beacon sl\e could not tell which way it went. 
 That it was still moving was apparent, but there was a 
 confusion of vehicles and persons, streets and buildings, 
 there was a pause somewhere was Ivan getting out? 
 Was that he taking another carriage? Oh ! why was not 
 Paul here to tell her just what happened at this point, 
 wherever it was? Why had she not heard his report when 
 he was there to make it? 
 
 Suddenly the confusion gave way, and the familiar wall 
 was before her, but still she saw it not. Now she was lis- 
 tening. Did she hear her lover's name? Was it spoken in 
 anger? It must be! it must be! They were speaking of 
 him; who were they? In this house? where else if she 
 heard it? Could it be that she had heard nothing? To her 
 ear there was no tangible sound save the ticking of the 
 clock on the mantel. Clara arose and crossed the room, 
 staggering with weakness, and placed her hand upon the 
 door. One instant she waited as if in doubt, and then she 
 opened it very softly. Yes ! there were voices below ; they 
 were in the library ; that was her uncle speaking. Had 
 she a right to listen? She stole to the head of the stairs 
 and looked down. The library door was closed. The voice 
 was an unintelligible murmur, nothing more. 
 
30 AN IMPERFECT VISION. 
 
 Down the stairs she crept and came to the library door. 
 
 "Are you money-mad?" It was her uncle who spoke. 
 "Don't you know that it hasn't come, that such a thing 
 can't bo effected in a moment?" 
 
 "And I tell you, Mat Pembroke," said a harsh voice, 
 "that you've got " 
 
 The voice suddenly stopped, and the speaker, the infirm 
 old man who had arrived late at the church while the 
 wedding party was waiting in the vestibule, half rose 
 from his big chair and pointed with a bony, trembling 
 hand over Mr. Pembroke's shoulder. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke turned about and saw Clara Hilman with 
 wide-open eyes and pale face standing just within the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Forgive me, uncle," she said in a voice scarce above a 
 whisper; "I thought you were speaking of Ivan, and I I 
 came down to say that I am going to find him." 
 
 She swayed slightly as she finished, and Mr. Pembroke 
 ran forward and took her in his arms. 
 
CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 
 
 Clara had not fainted in her uncle's arms, but she 
 nestled against him quivering and sobbing; and again it 
 was fortunate for her that the excited, pent-up forces of 
 her brain had broken through in a flood of tears. 
 
 "You see, Dexter!" cried Mr. Pembroke in broken ac- 
 cents, "how my poor girl suffers. There, there, Clara, 
 better get back to your bed and try to sleep. I thought 
 Louise was looking after you." 
 
 "She has been with me," replied Clara, "but I sent her 
 away. I wanted to think. Has nothing been heard from 
 Ivan?" 
 
 "Nothing yet, my dear. You shall know it as soon as 
 we do even if it comes at three in the morning." 
 
 Attracted by her cousin's voice, Louise appeared at this 
 moment and led Clara upstairs, scolding her gently for 
 having left her room. Clara was greatly subdued, and 
 urged no longer to be left alone. Through the rest of the 
 evening she sat quietly listening to Louise, and feeling 
 no return of that tensity of the nerves that had preceded 
 and accompanied her waking dream. 
 
 In the morning she was better, stronger in every way. 
 She met her uncle and cousin at breakfast, and although 
 she was very quiet she seemed more like her natural self 
 than they had expected. Every newspaper had something 
 to say about the disppearance of Ivan Strobel, and the re- 
 porters, apparently, had interviewed everybody directly in- 
 terested in him except the unhappy bride herself. The 
 newspapers were in a pile by her uncle's plate when she 
 surprised him by entering the room and taking her place 
 at the table. 
 
32 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 
 
 "I'd like to see the papers, uncle, " she said after re- 
 sponding to his greetings. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke glanced nervously at his Daughter, and 
 laid his hand irresolutely on the pile. 
 
 "I am afraid you won't find anything of comfort in 
 them, my dear,'* he said. 
 
 "No matter," she replied, "I don't expect to. Don't try 
 to keep them from me. I shall get them later if I do not 
 read them now." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke passed them all to her except one which 
 he opened and pretended to read himself. He had already 
 been through it, and he did not intend, if he could help it, 
 that she should see it. 
 
 Clara intently read the account of the interrupted wed- 
 ding in the first paper she took up, pausing only once to 
 exclaim, "Then the reporters were here last evening!" 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Pembroke, "they were coming and go- 
 ing until long after midnight." 
 
 "I almost wish I could have seen some of them," mur- 
 mured Clara as she continued to read. The report told with 
 fair accuracy about the break-down at Park and Tremont 
 Streets and the explanation of it given by the stableman. 
 Mrs. White was quoted, and as much as the reporter 
 could imagine was made of the visit to Strobel by the 
 mysterious stranger. Then there were interviews with the 
 missing nam's employers, State Street bankers, and the 
 highly gratifying intelligence was set forth that there was 
 no reason to suppose that Strobel had tampered with tho 
 funds or in any way betrayed his trust. Clara blushed 
 with indignation as she read that the books would be ex- 
 amined in the morning, with a view to discovering whether 
 Strobel had been guilty of any irregularities. 
 
 "The idea that Ivan should be suspected of dishonesty!" 
 exclaimed Clara, laying the paper down and taking up 
 another. 
 
 "People will think anything and everything," said her 
 uncle, "and you must be prepared for the worst insinua- 
 tions and speculations." 
 
CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 33 
 
 Clara read the next account in silence. It was much 
 longer than the first, and a great deal of attention and im- 
 agination had been devoted to the romantic aspect of the 
 situation. Clara was described as utterly prostrated by the 
 blow, dangerously ill, refusing to see her most intimate 
 friends; and the intended union of the beautiful orphan 
 with the Russian exile was dwelt upon with appropriate 
 grace and picturesqueness. She blushed for herself this 
 time and laid the paper down impatiently. 
 
 "I shall show them," she said, "if they pay any further 
 attention to the affair, that I am not prostrated by the 
 blow, hard as it is." 
 
 "What do you mean, Clara?" asked Mr. Pembroke and 
 Louise together. 
 
 "Just what I said last evening, uncle. I am going to 
 find Ivan." 
 
 "Why! dear, what can you do?" cried Louise, pity- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Do? I don't know yet what the details will be, but I 
 can search for him. What better, what else could I do? If 
 we had been married, and Ivan had disappeared, would it 
 not be my duty as well as my inclination to turn the 
 world upside down to find him? Should it make any dif- 
 ference just because the formal word had not been spoken 
 that was to make us husband and wife?" 
 
 Her voice trembled a little at the end of this brief 
 speech, and her eyes were moist, but she took up a third 
 paper resolutely and began to read. She had debated her 
 situation thoroughly in the long hours of the previous 
 day and evening, and her determination to devote herself 
 to the search for her lover was not the effect of a tempo 
 rary hallucination. Her uncle and cousin said nothing for 
 the present either to dissuade or encourage her, Louise, at 
 least, feeling that in due time Clara would see the futility 
 of attempting anything on her own account as long as ex- 
 perienced detectives were in the field. Mr. Pembroke left 
 the room for a moment, and when he returned the paper 
 he had been reading was folded and hidden in his pocket. 
 
34 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 
 
 There was still another before Clara, and when she had 
 read it she pushed them all away, saying: 
 
 "They're as much alike as if the same man had written 
 them all." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke was relieved that she did not notice that 
 one of the morning papers was not included in the lot she 
 had read. 
 
 Hardly had they finished breakast when the bell rang, 
 and a reporter for an evening paper inquired for news of 
 Mr. Strobel and Miss Hilman's health. Mr. Pembroke 
 frowned with annoyance, but Clara was for seeing the 
 young man. 
 
 "I don't want to be pictured as a useless, waiting, tear- 
 drenched weakling!" she cried when uncle and cousin 
 remonstrated. "Publicity? notoriety? what could be 
 wors than the notoriety I have already acquired? Let me 
 see him, please, so that he may have no excuse for describ- 
 ing me as a broken-down, useless incumbrance. " 
 
 "I will speak to him first," said Mr. Pembroke, hastily. 
 44 Wait here a minute. I'll send for you when 1 have heard 
 what it is he wants." 
 
 So Clara and Louise remained at the breakfast table, 
 and a few minutes later Mr. Pembroke opened the door and 
 said with an assumption of cheerfulness: 
 
 4 ' There! you see, sir, the young lady is bearing her 
 trouble more bravely than the morning papers announced. 
 This is Miss Hilman, Mr. Shaughnessy, and my daughter, 
 Louise." 
 
 Mr. Shaughnessy, thus introduced, entered the room 
 bowing with old-fashioned extravagance. His head was 
 bald as an egg, and his face was three-fourths concealed 
 by a grizzly beard. The 4 'young man" could no longer 
 look forward to his sixtieth birthday. He wore gold- 
 bowed eyeglasses, and in one hand he held hat and note- 
 book and in the other a stub of a pencil. 
 
 ' 4 Char-r med, ladies," he said, "to see you looking so 
 fine upon this gr-rievous occasion. May I ask, Miss Hil- 
 man, how you passed the night?" 
 
CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 35 
 
 What with surprise at her uncle's maneuver in bring- 
 ing the reporter to the breakfast room, and amusement at 
 the courtly yet business-like manners of the "young 
 man," Clara could not have repressed a smile if she had 
 tried ; and before she could relpy, Mr. Shaughnessy had 
 whipped his note-book to the top of his hat and written 
 the significant memonic, "smile." 
 
 "I slept quite as usual, thank you," replied Clara. 
 
 "I am delighted to hear it," said Shaughnessy; 
 "health, Miss Hilman, is the greatest pr-rop in time of 
 trouble. Have you any obser-rvation to make upon Mr. 
 Strobel's absence? Any theor-ry to account for it?" 
 
 "No theory, Mr. Shaughnessy, though I hope to have 
 one some time later in the day. I should like to have you 
 tell your readers that I have absolute faith in Mr. Strobel, 
 and that I expect any theory as to his disappearance to 
 accord with honorable conduct on his part." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the reporter, scribbling away for dear 
 life, that he might not lose a word of this important utter- 
 ance. "Do I understand you to say that you expect to 
 have news of yourMr. Strobel before the day is over?" 
 
 "I shall devote all my time to searching for him." 
 
 "Clara!" exclaimd Louise, while Mr. Pembroke turned 
 away with a despairing shrug. 
 
 Shaughnessy looked doubtingly at Mr. Pembroke, and 
 then said: 
 
 "May I have the honor of calling on you later, then?" 
 
 "I shall be glad at any time," replied Clara, "to give 
 you any information in my power." 
 
 Shaughnessy made a note. 
 
 "I hope you will pardon me seeming imper-rtinence, 
 Miss Hilman," he continued, "but me city editor com- 
 manded me to obtain photographs of yourself and Mr. 
 Strobel." 
 
 Louise sighed and looked genuinely alarmed ; but Clara 
 thought a moment, and answered that she would loan the 
 reporter pictures if he would be sure to return them unin- 
 jured. 
 
36 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 
 
 "I shall be sure to do so, " he answered, "and I commend 
 your decision. It saves me a lot of trouble, for, of course, 
 I must obey me city editor ; he's a tyrant. Miss Hilman, 
 and if you did not give me the pictures, I should have to 
 get them elsewhere." 
 
 Clara smiled as she left the room to get the photographs, 
 and when she had given them to Shaughnessy he took his 
 departure, promising to call again. 
 
 "How could you give him the pictures, Clara?" asked 
 Louise reproachfully. 
 
 "Mine will do no harm," answered Clara, quietly; 
 "didn't you hear him say he was bound to get it anyway? 
 Moreover, it may help in discovering Ivan, if only they 
 will print a good likeness of him." 
 
 Clara was right in one respect at least. Nearly every 
 evening paper published pictures of herself and Ivan, and 
 nobody at the Pembroke house could have told where the 
 originals were obtained. 
 
 "Now I must keep my word and begin the search," said 
 Clara after the reporter had gone. 
 
 " You're not going to leave the house, I hope?" exclaimed 
 her uncle. 
 
 "Certainly, uncle," she replied; "I feel quite well, and I 
 will not overtax myself. I can stand anything better than 
 staying idle here." 
 
 "1 am strongly disposed to forbid you," said Mr. Pem- 
 broke, anxiously; "you are sure to have a most disagreea- 
 ble and painful experience." 
 
 "Please don't go!" cried Louise, who had read the paper 
 that Mr. Pembroke had concealed. 
 
 "I am sorry to displease you both, " returned Clara, "but 
 if I am forbidden to go I shall have to disobay." 
 
 "Thn Louise must go with you." said her uncle. 
 
 "I should like to have her. Will vou, Lou, dear?" 
 
 Louise was only too anxious to accompany her cousin, 
 and accordingly they left the house together just in time 
 to escape a squad of reporters representing the other even- 
 ing papers. Clara had arranged her programme the night 
 
CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 37 
 
 before, and left word at the house for Ralph and Paul, 
 should they come in her absence, to go to Ivan's room. 
 Mrs:- White had seen Clara on the few occasions when Mr. 
 Strobel had served afternoon tea to his intended and other 
 friends, ard she fell into a great flurry o'f agitation when 
 she recognized her at the door. 
 
 "Come in, "she stammered as she led the way; "of 
 course I am glad to see you, for I am certain you cannot 
 believe it." 
 
 Louise tried to check the landlady from making the in- 
 evitable revelation, but Clara laid one hand on her cousin's 
 arm and asked : 
 
 "Believe what, Mrs. White?'" 
 
 "Why, what's in the paper," replied the landlady; 
 "you've read the papers, I suppose? I presumed that was 
 why you came." 
 
 "I read the papers," said Clara, "and I came to inquire 
 about Ivan. Do you refer to the suggested irregularities 
 in his accounts? Of course I do not believe anything of 
 that kind." 
 
 "Dear, no! I didn't suppose you did. I meant about my 
 daughter Lizzie." 
 
 "Your daughter!" exclaimed Clara in a low voice, 
 while Louisa hid her face in her hands "What do you 
 mean? Let me see the paper." 
 
 More agitated than ever, Mrs. White produced a copy of 
 the paper that Mr. Pembroke had withheld from his 
 niece. 
 
 "I must have overlooked this," said Clara, wonderingly, 
 as she saw that the account differed in style from those 
 she had read. Ihe reporter of his paper, sharper than his 
 rivals, had somehow discovered that Lizzie White hac? left 
 her home, anc he set forth the circumstances with every 
 delicate turn that language would allow to suggest a con- 
 nection between her flight and Ivan's disappearance. 
 
 "It is shrewdly suspected by the friends of Strobel," so 
 the story ran, "that as the time of his marriage ap- 
 proached, he found his fancy for Miss White stronger than 
 
38 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 
 
 his love for Miss Hilinan, and that he cho e elopement 
 with the former as less dishonorable than marriage with 
 the latter." 
 
 The writer then proceeded to an elaborate explanation 
 of how Strobel might himself have arranged the wheel of 
 his coupe so that it would fall off, and how he mijrht 
 then, by previous understanding with the second cabman, 
 who was also conveniently missing, have been driven to 
 the Park Square railroad station, where he waited for 
 Miss White. It was entirely possible that they rrrght have 
 taken the one o'clock train for New York, if not the noon 
 train. 
 
 Clara was very pale when she laid the paper down, but 
 her faith in Ivan was not so much as touched by doubt. 
 
 "It's an outrage,'' she said quietly. 
 
 "I knew you wouldn't believe it!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 
 White. 
 "Believe it! of course it isn't true! It's not possible!" 
 
 There was a ring at the door just then, and Mrs. White 
 excused herself to answer it. 
 
 She opened upon Ivan's mysterious visitor, Alexander 
 Poubalov. 
 
THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 39 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 
 
 "Good-morning," said Poubalov, gutturally; "this is 
 Madame White, I believe?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the landlady, impressed at once by 
 the stranger's deferential manner, and believing that 
 through him the mystery would be cleared away; "won't 
 you come in?" 
 
 "Thank you, yes. I have called to inquire for my friend 
 Strobel." 
 
 "You are not the first, sir," said Mrs. White, opening 
 the door to the sitting-room. "There are two here now 
 who will be glad to see you. Miss Hilman, this is the gen- 
 tleman who called on Mr. Strobel yesterday morning. 
 Miss Hilman was to have married him, you know, and 
 this is Miss Pembroke," and having thus awkwardlv in- 
 itiated a new scene, Mrs. White took refuge in the near- 
 est chair. 
 
 Poubalov was as near to showing surprise as he ever 
 permitted himself to come, and Clara, rising impulsively, 
 went directly to him and said : 
 
 "Then you can tell me something about Mr. Strobel, 
 can you not?" 
 
 "I can tell you nothing," he answered gravely; "I 
 came for information myself." 
 
 Clara looked into his eyes searchingly, and went back 
 to her chair feeling that her greatest hope had been 
 dashed to the ground. 
 
 "I feel the awkwardness of my position, ladies, "con- 
 tinued Poubalov (I make no attempt to suggest his dia- 
 lect, which was at times almost unintelligible, as there 
 was nothing of a humorous or trivial character in his con- 
 
40 THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 
 
 versation). "Every newspaper makes me out as a possible 
 foe to Mr. Strobel, a mysterious ogre going about seeking 
 to destoy young men, and perhaps I should not blame 
 anybody for supposing that I might have been concerned 
 in preventing Mr. Strobel's marriage, but I assure you 
 that I was not. I did not know of his intentions until yes- 
 terday morning, when he told me about it himself. I am 
 as much surprised as anybody to read of his disappear- 
 
 ance. ' 
 
 Poubalov paused and with marked deliberation took out 
 his card case. 
 
 "It was but natural," said Clara, tremulously, "that 
 we should hope that you could throw some light on his 
 movements, for knowing nothing except that somebody 
 had called on him unexpectedly, we could not fail to at- 
 tribute something significant to the visit." 
 
 "Especially," put in Mrs. White, "as the young men 
 and I hunted the house over for your card and couldn't 
 find it." 
 
 "All very natural," responded Poubalov, imperturba- 
 bly, "and it was a circumstance of the utmost triviality 
 in itself that lent color to my mysterious coming and go- 
 ing. You remember, Mrs. White, do you not, that you 
 took my card to Mr. Strobel?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, and he I don't want to give offense he 
 didn't seem particularly pleased to see it." 
 
 "So you told the newspaper men. I am not in the least 
 offended. Here is the card you took to him. I asked Mr. 
 Strobel where I might call upon him after his wedding 
 tour, and he wrote that address upon my own card. Of 
 course I took it away with me." He handed the card to 
 Clara, adding: "I want you to see that I am concealing 
 nothing, and if my voluntary return to this house did not 
 signify anything, your suspicions should certainly be re- 
 lieved by seeing that Strobel himself made a semi-appoint- 
 ment with me at his future home." 
 
 "I hope, Mr. Poubalov," snid Clara, with her eyes upon 
 the card, "that you will forgive us for cherishing any un- 
 
THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 41 
 
 just suspicions. At the worst, they were vague, and every- 
 thing is so confusing." 
 
 "I feel that there is nothing to forgive," began Pouba- 
 lov, graciously, when Mrs. White interrupted, her mind 
 naturally intent upon her own trouble: 
 
 "And such horrid things as they say, too! You said you 
 had read the papers?" 
 
 "Yes, all of them." 
 
 "Did you read about my daughter?" and the distressed 
 mother rose, and, faking the newspaper from Clara's lap, 
 thrust it into his hands. Without looking at it, Poubalov 
 answered: 
 
 "I read it." 
 
 "And what do you think of it?" cried Mrs. White, stem- 
 ming a fresh flood of tears. 
 
 Poubalov 's brows contracted slightly as a sign that he 
 disapproved forcing this question forward at the time, 
 and with a grave glance at Clara he replied : 
 
 "I do not think. I watch, ask questions, and listen." 
 
 Clara hardly knew whether to be encouraged or de- 
 pressed by this answer. Unless this man were an intimate 
 friend of Ivan, it was perhaps not to be expected that he 
 should see the folly of supposing for an instant that the 
 missing man had eloped with Lizzie White. 
 
 "Mr. Poubalov," she said, "the reports in the news- 
 papers do not throw the least light on this matter. I have 
 no criticism to make on their statements of fact, but their 
 conjectures of every kind are idle. They do not even dis- 
 turb me." 
 
 Poubalov bowed as if to signify that he heard and un- 
 derstood. 
 
 "The cause of his disappearance, " she continued after 
 a moment, "it is yet to be found. The newspapers have 
 not even hinted at it." 
 
 "You have an idea, then, "he said, "as to the correct 
 explanation?" 
 
 "No, not one," she answered; 'I can only think of 
 accident; but had there been any accident so serious as 
 
42 THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 
 
 to render him unconscious and helpless, the police would 
 have discovered it and reported it by this time, would 
 they not?" 
 
 "They would if your police are nearly as efficient as 
 those of European cities," said Poubalov, "and I have no 
 doubt they are so to the extent of such emergencies as 
 this case presents." 
 
 "Then, don't you see, the whole mystery is confined to 
 two general solutions; either Mr. Strobel was seized by 
 enemies and carried away ; or he had some powerful rea- 
 son for absenting himself, and disappeared voluntarily." 
 
 The Russian was surprised and deeply impressed by the 
 young lady's clearness of vision, and Louise, listening 
 with rapt attention, was simply amazed to hear her 
 cousin reason so calmly when every word she uttered 
 must have cost her pain. 
 
 "And which of these hypotheses," asked Poubalov, 
 guardedly, "do you consider the more probable?" 
 
 "I have no means of judging between them," replied 
 Clara, "for I have no fact except the disappearance to 
 justify either one. It seems as if there must be some other 
 theory, if I could only think what it is." 
 
 "There is nD other, "said Poubalov, "if you eliminate 
 accident, as I think you properly do." 
 
 "Then I must consider what grounds there might be for 
 supporting both hypotheses, As I discard as utterly 
 worthless all the suggestions in the newspapers, I must 
 suppose that Mr. Strobel had enemies, and that these ene 
 mies were powerful enough either to abduct him in broad 
 day on a crowded thoroughfare, or cause him such sudden 
 fear that he felt obliged to go into hiding." 
 
 Again was Poubalov surprised, for he could not himself 
 have reasoned more clearly, or have stated his conclusions 
 more concisely; but he simply nodded gravely, expressing 
 neither convictions or emotions. Clara wished that he 
 would speak. She had expressed her thoughts as they 
 came to her there in Mrs. White's sitting room. It was 
 thinking aloud rather than a statement of previously 
 
THE AGENT OF THE CZAE. 43 
 
 formed conclusions. Now she saw to just what end her 
 arguments were bringing her, and she almost shrank 
 from it. Summoning her utmost resolution she looked 
 straight at the sombre face of the Russian and added: 
 
 "I have no knowledge of Ivan's enemies, Mr. Poubalov; 
 isn't it possible that you can give some information on 
 that phase of the case?" 
 
 "Yes, it is," replied Poubalov, without hesitation. Then 
 he paused a moment before he continued: "Were not the 
 case so serious and for you so distossing, I should feel 
 that I must compliment you on your unusual faculty for 
 analyzing a situation. Far from taking offense at your 
 continued suspicion of me, I am really pleased." 
 
 "I have not said that I suspected you." 
 
 "You did not need to, Miss Hilman. Your reason tells 
 you that Mr. Strobel was happy and confident of the fu- 
 ture until suddenly one Poubalov appears before him like 
 the ghost of past misfortunes and as a prophet of new 
 
 ones." 
 
 "I assure you, " interrupted Clara again, "that I did not 
 know that you were not an intimate friend of Mr. Stro- 
 bel's; I spoke simply of natural inferences." 
 
 "My dear young lady," said the Russian, "you were 
 helpless in the hands of your own reason." 
 
 Clara was silent. She felt instinctively that her analysis 
 was correct and that she was facing, if not one of Ivan's 
 enemies, at the least a man who represented all that 
 might be hostile to him ; and when she had endeavored to 
 withdraw some of the force of her reasoning, he himself 
 had held her to her conclusons and clinched them. 
 
 "It was my intention, " continued Poubalov, "to learn 
 from Mrs. White who you were, that I might solicit the 
 privilege of calling upon you and laying before you what is 
 in my knowledge concerning Mr. Strobel, for I fear that 
 I ma y " 
 
 He stopped abruptly and looked from one to another of 
 the wondering ladies. 
 
 'Go on, please," exclaimed Clara, now stirred by a 
 
44 THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 
 
 growing agitation; "if you can give us the faintest light 
 it would be cruel to withhold it." 
 
 'May I hope that no offense will be taken," said Pouba- 
 lov, "if I say that I planned to tell these things to you 
 only? I will be pleased to call at your own convenience." 
 
 "No, no!" replied Clara, rising; "I must know now. 
 Tell me here. Mrs. White, may we step into your dining- 
 room?" 
 
 Louise and the landlady had risen at the same moment, 
 and Mrs. White said : 
 
 "If Miss Pembroke doesn't object, she and I will go out. 
 Only, Mr. sir, if you have anything to say about my 
 daughter, I wish you would let me hear it!" 
 
 "It was not my intention to mention her, madame, " re- 
 plied Poubalov. 
 
 Louise went to Clara's side and kissed her. 
 
 " You are so brave, dear!" she said. 
 
 Clara gave Louise a grateful look as she and Mrs. White 
 withdrew, and turned expectantly to the Russian. 
 
 "Pray sit down, Miss Hilman," he said; "what I have 
 to say may not be as important and useful to you as you 
 hope* but I preferred, and with good reason, as I think you 
 will see, to discuss the matter with you alone. It was on 
 my tongue to say that I may have been innocently a part 
 of the cause that sent Mr. Strobel into hiding." 
 
 "Yes," whispered Clara, eagerly; "go on!" 
 
 "Miss Hilman, I am an agent of the czar." 
 
 Poubalov paused as if he expected this announcement to 
 disturb, or otherwise impress his listener seriously, but 
 she merely looked straight at him, as she did when he be 
 gan to speak. 
 
 "Strobel knew me in that capacity," he continued, 
 "years ago when we were in Russia. Has he ever told you 
 about his life there?" 
 
 "A little," replied Clara, very doubtful how much she 
 ought to reveal to this man who represented the auto- 
 cratic, relentless power that had destroyed the fortune of 
 
 t.Vio Ktrnhftl familv a.nri marlo Ivan "himsftlf a.n 
 
THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 4$ 
 
 "You find it difficult to be frank with rne, " said Pouba- 
 lov, "and I am not surprised, but you must remember that 
 I am setting the example. It is quite the habit of thought- 
 less persons to apply an opprobrious epithet to my occupa- 
 tion and call me a spy. Well, then, I, Alexander Poubalov, 
 spy, paid by the government of Russia, tell you who I 
 am, and tell you that at one time Ivan Strobel had reason 
 to fear me." 
 
 The door bell rang while Poubalov was speaking and 
 Clara heard Mrs. White pattering through the hall to 
 answer it. 
 
 The man at the door was known to the landlady as 
 Strobel's tailor, an undersized, forlorn-looking man who 
 seemed always to be struggling with secret woe. She knew 
 that Strobel had been kind to him, and helped him in 
 more ways than mere patronage, and she knew that poor 
 Litizki was as grateful and loyal as a dog. It was with 
 sincere welcome, therefore, that she greeted him, and 
 asked him into the house. 
 
 "I only came, " saicTthe tailor, "to ask if there is any 
 news of Mr. Strobel? The newspapers say he has disap^ 
 paared." 
 
 "We know nothing of him here," answered Mrs. W T hite; 
 "but come in, do! There's no telling who may say the 
 word that will put us all on the right track. Miss Hilman 
 is here, the lady he was to marry, you know. She's talk 
 ing with a gentleman now in the parlor. I presume she 
 may like to see you." 
 
 "I don't know that I can give her any help, "said 
 Litizki, following the landlady into the dining-room, "but 
 I'll wait a few minutes, for I wanted to know something 
 that the papers do not make clear. ' ' 
 
 He came to a sudden halt as he stepped into the dining- 
 room, where the voices of the persons in the front room 
 were heard much more distinctly than in the hall. 
 
 "Who is that talking?" he exclaimed in an excited 
 whisper. 
 
46 THE AGENT OF THE CZAE. 
 
 "It's a gentleman. who called on Mr. Strobel yesterday," 
 replied Mrs. White; "I can't think of his name." 
 
 "I should know that voice," muttered Litizki as if 
 speaking to himself. 
 
 The rooms were separated by folding doors with glazed 
 glass panels. On one of the panels there was a tiny spot 
 where the opaque glaze had beon rubbed or knocked off. 
 Litizki applied his eye to that spot, and shaded the glas s 
 with his hand, straining to get a clear view of the man 
 whose deep voice came to him like the distant rumble of 
 an organ. 
 
 After a moment he straightened up and turned about, 
 his sallow, depressed features gleaming with savage 
 interest. 
 
 "I cannot see clearly," he whispered, "but if that is 
 Alexander Poubalov, then the whole mystery of Strobel's 
 disappearance is cleared away!" 
 
LITIZKI AT WORK. 47 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LITIZKI AT WORK. 
 
 "It would have been perfectly natural," continued Pou- 
 balov, "for Strobel to suspect me at first blush of evil 
 intentions, and I presume he did so ; for, without inquir- 
 ing what brought me to America and to him, he took 
 pains to remind me that he was within the jurisdiction 
 of the United States, and that it was not his purpose to 
 set foot outside the limits of your country, of which I pre- 
 sume he is by this time a citizen." 
 
 "He has taken out his first papers," replied Clara. 
 
 "And, therefore, should have felt himself secure from 
 one who, supposing he were hostile, yet acted as the offi- 
 cial of a foreign and a friendly government. I give you 
 credit, Miss Hilman, of drawing a correct conclusion from 
 that statement of relations." 
 
 Poubalov paused, and Clara responded slowly: 
 
 "It ought to mean that he had other enemies than you or 
 
 those whom you represent." 
 "Exactly; but why do you hedge pardon the term 
 
 why do you set forth the conclusion with reservation? 'It 
 
 ought to mean, ' is what you said. Why not say it does 
 
 mean?" 
 
 "Because I do not know whether you are telling me the 
 truth." 
 
 . Poubalov leaned back in his chair, and his dark face was 
 momentarily illumined by an amused smile. 
 
 "May I light a cigarette?" he asked in a tone that 
 seemed to say how patient he was under this continuance 
 of suspicion that not even reason could dissipate. It was 
 as if he had said, "With all your unexpected cleverness 
 
48 LITIZKI AT WORK. 
 
 as a logician, Miss Hilman, you are yet a woman, and you 
 cling desperately to woman's reasonless intuitions." 
 
 "Oh, pardon me if I am cruelly unjust," cried Clara, 
 as clearly the woman in her quick relenting as she was in 
 following her intuitions; "have patience with me! You 
 must know how distressed I am, and how hard it is to 
 think clearly. Your very admission that you are a paid 
 spy suggests deceit and trickery I suppose I am making 
 the matter worse." 
 
 "By no means, Miss Hilman," replied Pouhalov, hold- 
 ing a cigarette between his fingers; "we shall come to an 
 understanding presently, I am sure. I never take offense, 
 not even when my loyalty to the czar is doubted; and 
 nothing you may say will prevent me from doing what I 
 can to clear away the mystery surrounding Mr. Strobel. " 
 
 "Please light your cigarette," said Clara; "if you 
 wouldn't make me talk, we should get on better." 
 
 Poubalov smiled again, and when he had puffed a great 
 cloud of fragrant smoke from his lips, he resumed: 
 
 "I will proceed as if you cherished no doubts as to my 
 sincerity. It follows, from my analysis, that Mr. Strobel 
 could have had no fear of harm coming to him from an 
 official of Russia. He never had reason to fear me as an 
 indivdual; in fact, the individuality of Alexander Pouba- 
 lov long since disappeared in the person of the official 
 agent. Poubalov has no enmities, no friendships; all men 
 are hostile or friendly to him, as they are the enemies 
 or the adherents of the czar, whom God preserve! The 
 next step in the analysis is to suggest the nature of Mr. 
 Strobel's present enemies. You did not tell me so, but I 
 presume you are aware that when Mr. Strobel was younger 
 he permitted his generous sympathies to be enlisted in 
 what he would then have called 'the people's party' of 
 Russia. Without going into details with which every in- 
 telligent person is more or less familiar, I will remind 
 you that, incidental to the so-called democratic movement 
 in Russia, was the organization of a secret society the 
 
L1TIZKI AT WORK. 49 
 
 avowed purpose of which was the disruption of the 
 empire." 
 
 Poubalov paused, and puffed at his cigarette deliber- 
 ately. 
 
 "You want me to say something," cried Clara in des- 
 peration, "and I don't know what to say." 
 
 "Pardon me," said the spy, suavety, "a woman of your 
 cleverness will not resent it when I tell you that you 
 misstate your difficulty. You could say much, perhaps, 
 but you are afraid to." 
 
 Clara's silence was an admission that Poubalov had 
 spoken correctly, and after giving her ample time to deny 
 his accusation, he continued : 
 
 ''You are afraid and again you will pardon plain lan- 
 guage that you will involve your lover in fresh difficulties. 
 Let me point out again that, so far as his offenses against 
 the government of the czar are concerned, they were purely 
 political offenses, and he is therefore in a perfectly secure 
 asylum as long as he is on American soil, whether he 
 be simply a refugee or a naturalized citizen, "ou must 
 seek for his enemies, Miss Hilman, elsewhere than among 
 the representatives of Kussian authority." 
 
 "You give me too much credit for cleverness," said 
 Clara, "for I cannot follow you." 
 
 "You know that the secret society to which I referred 
 adopted the term nihilism as a definition of its principles, 
 do you not? And you must know, even if Mr. Strobel 
 never told you so, that the Nihilists were bound by the 
 most awful oaths never to betray the secrets of their as- 
 sociation." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that Mr. Strobel was a Nihilist?" 
 
 "Certainly; that was what I was driving at from the 
 beginning. It was for that ho was compelled tu fly fruiu 
 Russia, and that is why he cannot return to his native 
 land. The government has done much to stamp out the 
 curse of nihilistic propaganda, and many members of the 
 society have fled. Some are in Switzerland, some in Eng- 
 land, others are here, here in Boston. Far from the field 
 
50 LITIZKI AT WORK. 
 
 of their evil machinations, they cherish still their destruc- 
 tive ambitions as applied to Russia; and, Miss Hilman, 
 they still keep watch on one another. It would fare ill 
 with any Nihilist in America should he venture to betray 
 his former associates in any way." 
 
 "I suppose I understand you now" said Clara, slowly. 
 "You mean that I must look for Ivan's enemies among the 
 Russian exiles who live in Boston." 
 
 "Or elsewhere in America." 
 
 "If he really w re connected with 'chem in Russia, he 
 would be the last man to betray them. " 
 
 "Doubtless; but would they credit him with such loy- 
 alty? May they not have imagined that, under certain 
 circumstances, he might be induced to betray them? And 
 may they not have conveyed such definite and fearful 
 threats that he found it necessary to disappear?" 
 
 "Do you mean by 'certain circumstances' his intended 
 marriage?" 
 
 "No. I may not mean anything. We shall see some day 
 whether I do or not." 
 
 "You speak in a constant succession of riddles. Why 
 not continue your frankness, and be strictly open with 
 me?" 
 
 Poubalov lit a fresh cigarette, and after a long scrutiny 
 of the ceiling, responded : 
 
 "That is not my way, Miss Hilman. I am sincerely try- 
 ing to suggest the clew to your difficult problem." 
 Clara took her own turn at reflection, and said at last: 
 "If Ivan felt obliged to disappear for a time, in order to 
 escape his enemies, he would have managed to let me 
 know." 
 
 "It would soom so, " admitted Poubalov, rising; "and 
 that brings you to your last alternative." 
 
 "Wait," exclaimed Clara, imperatively; "you bring 
 me to the last alternative as if that were the end of my 
 difficulties. Suppose it to be true that some Russian ex- 
 iles, in a mistaken distrust of Mr. Strobel, have abducted 
 
LITIZKI AT WOEK. 51 
 
 him. Can you not suggest how I am to proceed to prove 
 that and to rescue him?" 
 
 "I hope to be able to do so, Miss Hilman, in a short 
 time, a few days at most, and I assure you that I shall 
 henceforth give my undivided attention to searching for 
 Mr. Strobel." 
 
 Clara knitted her brows in painful perplexity. 
 
 "A woman situated as I am," she said presently, 
 "ought to be stirred by nothing but gratitude ; but the one 
 thing I can think to say is, why do you interest your- 
 self so deeply in the matter?" 
 
 "Still distrustful, " said Poubalov in his deepest tones. 
 "Miss Hilman, I might resort to sophistry and direct 
 deceit in answering your question. I might point out that 
 the newspapers have placed me, though not as yet by 
 name, in a disagreeable position from which it should be 
 my earnest desire to extricate myself. I might declare 
 that I was moved by friendship or admiration for Mr. 
 Strobel. But it does not please me to practice arts of 
 trickery with you. Public notoriety I care as little for as 
 for the fly that buzzes harmlessly about my head. I never 
 had friendship or admiration for Mr. Strobel, and I feel 
 neither sentiment now. Alexander Poubalov's one senti- 
 ment is loyalty to his czar." 
 
 "You haven't answered the question." 
 
 "Because I cannot answer it without either deceit or 
 the betrayal of my trust. But 1 shall nevertheless use 
 'every endeavor to find your lover. Will you care to hear 
 from me from time to time?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Clara, after a moment's thought; "cer- 
 tainly, yes. I do thank you for speaking to me as you 
 have, and I wish I could trust you. I almost do trust 
 you." 
 
 "It would be too ungracious in me, " responded Pcuba- 
 lov, "not to wish that you could trust me, and not to hope 
 that some time in the near future you will find that in 
 this matter you can do so absolutely.' 1 
 
52 LITIZKI AT WOEK. 
 
 "I suppose it would be vain to ask you what you are 
 going to do?" 
 
 "As vain as for me to ask you to tell me all I would like 
 to know about Mr. Strobel." 
 
 "Mr. Poubalov," exclaimed Clara, earnestly, "there can 
 be no reason why I should withhold anything from you. 
 Your own argument proves that; and, besides, you know 
 more about Ivan's connection with the nihilistic move- 
 ment than I ever dreamed of. You perceive the distrust 
 that I cannot conquer, but you believe me, do you not?" 
 
 "Implicitly, Miss Hilrnan." 
 
 "Then I assure you that, to my knowledge, Mr. Strobel 
 has not had anything to do with nihilistic propaganda in 
 this country for three years at least. He used to write 
 some on Russian topics, but he abandoned that when he 
 went into business, and I may say, when he became 
 acquainted with me. I think I know all his friends, all 
 his associates, and among them all there is but one Rus- 
 sian, a gentleman like himself." 
 
 "I am very glad to hear this," sad Poubalov; "and now 
 I will see what I can do. I cannot act as I would in Russia, 
 but I can still accomplish something, I think. I hope to 
 have the honor of calling upon you soon. I leave it entirely 
 to you to speak of our conversation as you please, but I 
 will go out without disturbing Madame White and your 
 friend. Au revoir, Miss Hilman." 
 
 The distinguished-looking Russian bowed and left the 
 room and immediately afterward Clara hear the outside 
 door close upon him. 
 
 When Litizki, the forlorn-looking tailor, mentioned 
 Poubalov's name, both Mrs. White and Louise Pembroke 
 exclaimed "That's it!" and both came forward as if their 
 anxiety were about to be dissipated at one stroke. 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Mrs. White, eagerly. 
 
 "He is "began Litizki fiercely; "no! I must not 
 speak. Let me go out, that I may watch him. He shall 
 lead me to Ivan Strobel. Do not tell him that I have been 
 here, do not mention my name." 
 
LITIZKI AT WORK. 53 
 
 "Dear me! it makes me more nervous than ever," said 
 Mrs. White, laying a hand on Litizki's arm to restrain 
 him. "Do you think, Mr. Litizki, that he has done any- 
 thing to Mr. Strobel?" 
 
 "Think!" exclaimed the little tailor who seemed on fire 
 with excitement, "it is the next thing to knowing! Not a 
 word, remember!" 
 
 He tip-toed his way through the hall as if it were night 
 and he were a thief, and cautiously opened the outside 
 door. He touched his hand dramatically to his lips as he 
 closed it behind him, leaving Mrs. White terrified and 
 Miss Pembroke bewildered. 
 
 Litizki, even in a tumult of rage and desperation, was 
 not a very impressive man to look at. It would have 
 seemed that his fury could be quelled by a gentle cuff 
 with the open hand, and that his whole being could be 
 snuffed out with a vigorous pinch ; but if ever man was ter- 
 ribly in earnest, he was, and a close observer might have 
 noted the danger signals in the formation of his head and 
 in the hang of his lips. This was a man who might be 
 stirred to such depths that his whole shallow nature 
 would be in commotion, when discretion would be cast off 
 like flecks of foam from an on-rushing wave; and then let 
 an enemy be wary, for even a slender arm, like that of the 
 little tailor, may strike a fatal blow ! 
 
 It seemed a long, long time to Litizki that Poubalov con. 
 tinued his conversation with Miss Hilman. He dared not 
 linger near the house lest the spy should see him from 
 a window, or emerge suddenly from the doorway and so 
 discover that eager eyes were directed to his movements. 
 Litizki slunk into one doorway after another, never stay- 
 ing long in one, lest he be warned away with sufficient 
 outcry to alarm Poubalov, whose ear, he believed, was 
 acutely tuned to the slightest sounds, and who found 
 untoward significance even in the vagrant breeze. 
 
 At last the door opened, and Litizki dodged into an open 
 hall, only to flit out again as soon as he saw Poubalov turn 
 toward Somerset Street. Arrived there, he turned down 
 
54 LITIZKI AT WORK. 
 
 the hill, and then Litizki ran forward to the corner around 
 which he peered cautiously. It would not have surprised 
 him if his face had touched that of Poubalov as he did 
 so, for it would have seemed to him but natural that the 
 spy should think that he was followed and should wait 
 there for the purpose of trapping his adversary. But, no ; 
 Poubalov was progressing calmly down the street, and 
 at Howard he again turned to the left. 
 
 Litizki ran after, fearful of losing his man in the more 
 crowded street, saw him cross Bulfinch into Bulfinch Place, 
 and finally open the door of a lodging house with a latch- 
 key. 
 
 So!" thought the tailor, noting the number of the 
 house and turning back, "he chooses his room within a 
 stone's throw of Ivan Strobel's, and then takes a round- 
 about way to go from one house to the other. That is 
 like him. Alexander Poubalov could not be direct in con- 
 versation or action even if he were intent upon a good 
 deed which would be impossible." 
 
 The suggestion was so grotesquely absurd that Litizki 
 laughed and shuddered at once. 
 
 "Now," he reflected, "shall I tell the police where to 
 look for Ivan Strobel, or shall I consult with his lady? 
 I will go back and see her first." 
 
A DANGEROUS MAN. 55 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A DANGEROUS MAN. 
 
 For some minutes after Poubalov left the house Clara 
 sat motionless, reviewing the strange discourse of the 
 Russian, trying to persuade herself one moment .to trust 
 him, and the next impulsively throwing aside the theories 
 so finely spun from his inuendoes and circumlocutions. 
 She shuddered at the thought of Ivan in the hands of such 
 fanatics as she knew were included in the most rabid 
 enemies of Russian polity, and as promptly felt such a so- 
 lution of the mystery to be impossible. Equally impossible 
 semed the solution that premised a fear on the part of 
 Ivan so great that he dared not let even his intended wife 
 know of his whereabout. 
 
 Removed from the influence of Poubalov 's magnetic 
 personality and his subtle arguments, Clara felt that it 
 was to him rather than to the Nihilists that she must look 
 for implacable hostility to Ivan. Yet why should Ivan, 
 resident in and prospective citizen of the United States, 
 fear him, an "official agent of a friendly government"? 
 Fear? That was not like the Ivan she knew and loved ! 
 Was it not again impossible that her lover should have 
 been so stirred by fear of anybody or anything as to take 
 flight and conceal his hiding-place from her? 
 
 On the other hand, how could she know what influ- 
 ences had been suddenly applied to Ivan to make him take 
 a seemingly indefensible if not impossible course? And 
 what was more impossible, in any of the suggested solu- 
 tions, than his very disappearance, which was a painful 
 fact, although hard to realize even after nearly twenty- 
 four hours had passed since the time set for his wedding? 
 
56 A DANGEROUS MAN. 
 
 The dining-room door was softly opened, and Mrs. 
 White put in her head. 
 
 "Has he gone?" she whispered. 
 
 "Yes," replied Clara, starting up as if she had been 
 aroused from sleep. "Come in." 
 
 Louise approached her cousin solicitously. 
 
 "We have had such a fright!" she said taking Clara in 
 her arms; "I didn't know whether to be more alarmed 
 when we could hear his deep voice than after the sound of 
 it had ceased altogether." 
 
 "Why should you have feared?" asked Clara; "you 
 couldn't suppose that I was in any danger in Mrs. White's 
 house, could you?" 
 
 "No," answered Louise, "but the air is fulll of excite- 
 ment ; and while Mr. Poubalov was talking, another Rus_ 
 sian came in who is friendly to Ivan. Mrs. White says he 
 is a tailor, a very poor man whom Ivan befriended, and 
 an exile like himself. He recognized Poubalov 's voice, and 
 delcared positively that his presence here explained Ivan's 
 fate. He was terribly agitated and refused to stay, say- 
 ing that he must follow Poubalov. We couldn't tell what 
 to make of it." 
 
 This little narration came as a new shock to Clara. She 
 had told Poubalov that among all of Ivan's friends there 
 was but one Russian, and she had in mind, of course, 
 Paul Palovna. She had never heard of this tailor, and al- 
 though it might not follow that Ivan would count among 
 his friends a poor man whom he might have befriended, 
 was it not a reasonable inference that this poor man was a 
 Nihilist? and that if there were one brought to light, that 
 there might be many others whose identity would ever re- 
 main unknown to her? Had she not heard how the great 
 body of the nihilistic society was made up of the poor? 
 and this man had recognized Poubalov ! That was signifi- 
 cant, surely; but just what inference of value she should 
 draw from it was anything but clear. 
 
 While these thoughts and questions were chasing 
 through her brain, Litizki and Paul Palovna arrived at 
 
A DANGEROUS MAN. 57 
 
 the house, coming from different directions. Paul ap- 
 proached Clara with marked constraint. 
 
 "Do not be afraid, my friend," she said, extending her 
 hand; "I am quite strong and hopeful. I have read the 
 papers, all of them, and they do not disturb me. I cannot 
 thank you enough for what you did for me yesterday." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you speak so bravely, " responded 
 Paul; "you mustn't feel indebted to me, however, for 
 Strobel is the best friend I ever had, and it would be 
 strange indeed if I did not try to find him. I suppose it is 
 almost unkind to ask if there is any news?" 
 
 'There is none exactly, and yet 1 have heard some 
 things that you can advise me about better than anybody 
 else." 
 
 "Miss Hilman," interposed Mrs. White, "this is Mr. 
 Litizki, the man Miss Pembroke was telling you about. " 
 
 Clara, intent upon referring Poubalov's suggestions to 
 Paul, had not seen the little tailor come in. Now she turned 
 and confronted Litizki with mingled hope and alarm ; 
 hope that this man, whose positive utterance had been re- 
 ported, might give her a definite clew ; alarm lest he be 
 one of the most irreconcilable of revolutionists, a man 
 who would sacrifice friends and family for a cause that he 
 imagined just. Her doubts increased as she saw the wild 
 gleam in his small eyes, that lit up Ins sallow face and 
 made it glow with fierce intensity. Ivan had befriended 
 him ; must she distrust him, too? 
 
 "I am glad to see you," she said with a quick resolution 
 to win this man, and she surprised the tailor and made 
 him speechless for the moment by grasping his hand 
 warmly. "You have come to tell me something about Mr. 
 Poubalov, or Mr. Strobel, or both?" 
 
 Litizki, embarrassed and awed by this queenly young 
 woman who looked into his eyes so searchingly and 
 withal so graciously, cleared his throat, shifted about on 
 his feet, and a faint tinge of red actually found its way 
 to his sunken cheeks. 
 
 "Yes," he answered after a moment, catching his breath 
 
58 A DANGEROUS MAN. 
 
 with a gasp and swallowing as if he took oxygen into his 
 system by way of his stomach; "yes, Miss Hilman, about 
 both, if you please." 
 
 He paused, excitement and embarrassment making it 
 difficult to say anything coherently. 
 
 "Poubalov?" said Paul, whose brows had contracted 
 ominously when he heard the name, and who took ad- 
 vantage of the pause to ask, "What Poubalov is that?" 
 
 "Can there be more than one who would hound a poor 
 Russian the world over?" rasped Litizki, turning upon 
 Paul, intense excitement blazing again in his usually 
 dull eyes; "it is none other than Alexander Poubalov, 
 spy, informer, traitor!" 
 
 The little tailor trembled visibly as he hissed these 
 words, and he turned to Clara as if to make certain that 
 they should impress her deeply. 
 
 "What, in the name of all that is right, does Poubalov 
 do here?" asked Paul. 
 
 "Do?" cried Litizki; "does he ever do anything but 
 spy upon the poor? Ask what has he done here, and I will 
 tell you that he has captured our Strobel, and has him 
 bound in chains, waiting only a convenient and safe op- 
 portunity to convey him from the country to the presence 
 of the little father* and then, Siberia, or " and the 
 
 *Russian familiar name for the czar, 
 tailor drew his hand significantly across his throat. 
 
 Clara observed Paul, not the tailor, during this extravaJ 
 gant speech. Would Palovna, an intelligent man, free 
 from excitement, condemn and ridicule Litizki's asser- 
 tions as wild and imaginary? No; he listened gravely 
 and gave no sign that he discredited the tailor in the 
 least. Noticing Clara's inquiring look, Paul said: 
 
 "We Russians, Miss Hilman, are inclined to credit alJ 
 most any monstrosity in the way of crime, treachery 
 and violence to men like Alexander Poubalov. To us lie 
 stands as guilty of anything with which he is charged 
 until he incontestably proves himself innocent.'* 
 
A DANGEROUS MAN. 59 
 
 Clara's heart sank heavily, but she that knew that she 
 could trust Paul. 
 
 "May I tell you something?" she asked, and he fol- 
 lowed her into the dining-room. There she hurriedly re- 
 peated the substance of Poubalov's discourse, laying es- 
 pecial stress upon his warning relative to distrustful 
 Nihilists. 
 
 "It's a splendid argument,' said Paul when she had fin- 
 ished; "I suppose you were attracted by his very frank- 
 ness in admitting that he is a spy? That was a character- 
 istic move. Mind you, I never had trouble with Poubalov ; 
 I wouldn't know him if I saw him, but I know about him. 
 He is a very prince of spies, a past-master in the art of 
 deceit, and many, many shrewd men have been the vic- 
 tims of his seeming candor. You may be sure he masks 
 some villainy beneath his frankness, for he never was 
 known to do a disinterested act." 
 
 "He spoke as if he were here upon some mission, " sug- 
 gested Clara. 
 
 "Certainly, but he wouldn't tell you what that mis- 
 sion was. That it had to do with Strobel is certain. I 
 don't want to alarm you unnecessarily, Miss Hilman, but 
 Poubalov is a most dangerous man. It may be well for us 
 that you have faced him, though we must necessarily 
 have discovered his presence soon, and to see him is to 
 suspect. We at least know where to look. Litizki is an 
 impressionable, excitable man, but he may be right, never- 
 theless. I am sure that you can trust him, whether or not 
 there is anything in Poubalov's nihilistic suggestions. 
 And as to that, I don't believe there is not with him 
 about. Plenty of false notions prevail about the Russian 
 revolutionists, and it would be to Poubalov's interest to 
 arouse dread of them in your mind. Anything to distract 
 attention and suspicion from himself." 
 
 They returned to the front room. Litizki had recovered 
 from his excitement, and was more like his customary, 
 depressed self, but though he spoke quietly it was with 
 bitter emphasis and strong conviction. 
 
60 A DANGEROUS MAN. 
 
 "I believe," he said, "that Poubalov instigated if he 
 did not take part in the abduction of Mr. Strobel. I am 
 convinced that he has him now in hiding, and the ques- 
 tion only is whether we are to inform the police or take 
 action ourselves." 
 
 "Tho police," responded Paul, "would not procood 
 against Poubalov on the strength of our suppositions. He 
 would intrench himself in his official position, and insist 
 on compliance with all forms of law ; and during the de- 
 lay, if, indeed, he has Strobel in his power, he would spirit 
 him away." 
 
 "So I think," said Litizki, "and as he won't dare to 
 remove Strobel until the interest in his disappearance 
 dies down, unless he wore openly attacked in the manner 
 you suggest, I intend, if Miss flilman agrees, to hunt for 
 our friend in my own way. I shall do so to-night. I must 
 find him." 
 
 He looked inquiringly at Clara. 
 
 "I cannot say yes or no," she replied; "you are a friend 
 of Mr. Strobel's and you will do what you think best. 
 Only, let me know what you find." 
 
 There was a gleam of pleasure in Litizki 's eyes, fol- 
 lowed by an expression of sullen determination as he re- 
 sponded : 
 
 "You shall hear from me to-morrow." 
 
 "Lou, "said Clara, "I think we had better go home 
 now. I am feeling very worn. If any of you hear the least 
 word, I wish you would come to see me." 
 
 As she prepared to leave she took occasion to whisper to 
 Paul : 
 
 "I do not know that I do right in encouraging Litizki. 
 My feeling is that the more there are at work and the 
 more various the methods, the greater is the chance of 
 success. May I leave it to you to prevent Litizki, if pos- 
 sible, from any act that would be indiscreet, or worse?" 
 
 "I will do what I can," said Paul; 'but he is, after all, 
 an irresponsible agent. I am inclined to think that good 
 will corne of his investigation, whatever he does." 
 
A DANGEROUS MEN. 61 
 
 It was the luncheon hour when the young ladies reached 
 home, and Mr. Pembroke had arrived before them. His 
 face expressed painful anxiety as he greeted his niece. 
 
 "My poor child," he said, "you have heard everything, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "I have heard a great deal, uncle," replied Clara, "and 
 appreciate your motives in withholding the paper from 
 me that published the wicked rumor that Ivan had eloped, 
 but you should have known me better. Do you suppose, 
 uncle dear, that that rumor disturbed me? I dismiss it 
 more lightly than anything that has been said." 
 
 "Poor child! poor child!" sighed Mr. Pembroke. 
 
 "Why do you say that?" asked Clara, sitting down 
 wearily. "Of course, I am sorrowful; nobody can realize 
 what I suffer; but I am confident that Ivan has done no 
 wrong, and I cannot believe that we shall not find him. I 
 have returned to rest, not to give up the search." 
 
 "Clara, my dear girl," said her uncle, tenderly, "you'd 
 best give it up. You have a great sorrow to bear, but I 
 know how brave you are. There is no occasion for fur- 
 ther search." 
 
 "No occasion! Uncle, what do you mean?" 
 
 "The detective assigned from headquarters to make an 
 investigation has been to see me," 
 
 "Yes, yes! what did he say?" 
 
 "The worst possible, Clara. He is convinced that Strobol 
 went to New York, if not with Lizzie White, then to join 
 her there. It is the only possible explanation of his disap- 
 pearance." 
 
 "No! no! you know nothing about it, and the detective 
 is a fool!" cried Clara. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke was immensely surprised at this violent 
 outbreak, when he had expected tears, prostration, the 
 deepest grief. It occurred to him that perhaps his niece's 
 mind had been unsettled by her trouble. She sat looking 
 a him with blazing eyes, her face flushed, her foot nerv- 
 ously patting the floor. 
 
69 A DANGEROUS MAN. 
 
 "You are greatly excited, Clara, " ventured her uncle, 
 gently. 
 
 "Tell me what the detective said!' 1 retorted Clara, im- 
 periously. 
 
 "He has found that a closed carriage, such as we know 
 Strobel took at the corner of Park and Tr -ots, 
 
 halted at the Park Square Station y after that time. 
 
 The passenger was aye who a: --d the de- 
 
 scription of Strobel. He paid the driver, went n sta- 
 
 tion, bought a ticket for New York, and immodm 
 took his place in the train. It is further known that L 
 White took a train from the same station at about t ho 
 same hour/' 
 
 Is that all?" asked Clara, scornfully. 
 
 "My dear girl, is it not enough?" 
 
 "It is nothing, uncle, absolutely nothing. Has your de- 
 tective seen the driver of the closed carriage?" 
 
 "I .1 n't know; I suppose so.'* 
 
 "1 n i ust see the detective then. No, I am not going 
 now. After luncheon. 1 shall not risk failure by neglect- 
 ing to care for myself. Uncle dear, " and she sudd< -nl y 
 united and put her arms around the old gentleman's 
 ;ive me, please, if I am impatient ami hasty 
 \vith yon. I know Ivan as you do not; I know this aconsa- 
 tinn is not true. The detective has been mistaken, and 1 
 shall show him so, and all the world besides." 
 
 Mr l v m broke sighed sadly. 
 
 Your loyalty, my dear, " he said, "is deserving of a 
 better subject and a better fate," 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 Nothing would deter Clara from a trip to police head- 
 quarters after luncheon, and, as in the forenoon, her 
 Cousin Louise accompanied her. As they entered the 
 building in Pemberton Square, they met the infirm old 
 man, Dexter, he who had arrived late at the church, he 
 whom Clara had interrupted in conversation with Mr. 
 Pembroke. He bowed to the young ladies with an at- 
 tempt at graciousness, and reached for the shapeless, soft 
 cap that covered his head, but he only succeeded in pull- 
 ing the visor awry, and he passed them, mumbling about 
 the weather. 
 
 "I am afraid," said Clara, "that my trouble is making 
 me harsh toward everybody, but that old man seems to 
 me the most disagreeable and repulsive being I ever saw. 
 Who is he?" 
 
 *'I only know that his name is Dexter " replied Louise; 
 "he has some business with papa, I believe." 
 
 Clara inquired for the detective who had been assigned 
 to the Strobel case, and after such delays as are naturally 
 incident to strangers making their first call at the offices 
 of the department, she was confronted by Mr. William 
 Bowker, a commonplace-looking individual, who said: 
 
 "Well, ladies, what can I do for you?" 
 
 "I am Miss Hilman, " replied Clara. 
 
 "Ah!" and Bowker raised his brows regretfully, "I in- 
 formed your uncle this forenoon, Miss Hilman, of what I 
 have done and found in the matter." 
 
 "He told me about it, but I couldn't be satisfied with a 
 report at second hand. Won't you tell me just what you 
 told him?" 
 
64 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 "It will be very unpleasant for you, Miss Hilman, and 
 if Mr. Pembroke has told you the result of iny investiga- 
 tion, that is really all there is to be said." 
 
 "I won't trouble you to repeat that a gentleman answer 
 ing the description of Mr. Strobel alighted from a cl< 
 carriage at the Park Square Station, shortly after the aeH- 
 dent on Park Street and bought a ticket for New York, or 
 that Miss White took the same train. I am willing to take, 
 it for granted that you have traced Miss White's nv 
 rnents correctly. I want to know what makes you so cer- 
 tain that the gentleman who took the train ^as Mr. Stro- 
 bel?" 
 
 Detective Bowker stared at the young lady a moment; 
 it was his delicate way of expressing surpri&e. 
 
 "The description of the man and the time tallied with 
 Strobel and his accident, " he answered, "to say nothing 
 of the reasons for his running away." 
 
 "Is that all, Mr. Bowker?" 
 
 "No, it ain't; that was what we found at first. Don't 
 
 it look reasonable " and he proceeded to theorize on 
 
 the matter until Clara checked him. 
 
 "I could have heard all that from half the people in 
 Boston, "she said, "if I had paid any attention to the 
 rumor. I supposed professional detectives would base 
 their reports on something better than conjecture." 
 
 Bowker shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "What would you say," he asked with a little temper, 
 "if an acquaintance of Strobel 's was to tell you that he 
 saw the gentleman buy his ticket and go to the train?" 
 
 "Have you such evidence as that? If so, who is it?' 
 
 "I can't answer the question, Miss Hilman. I have no 
 right to make public the workings of the department. I 
 expect to get further evidence this afternoon to prove 
 that Strobel eloped. It's by no wish of mine, you under- 
 stand, that I tell you these disagreeable things." 
 
 "You needn't apologize, Mr. Bowker. I came for infor- 
 mation. I understand, then, that you do not regard your 
 investigation as finished." 
 
65 
 
 "Well, not exactty. Of course we want to clinch it. " 
 
 "Have you seen the driver of the closed carriage?" 
 
 "No. We have no means of identifying him except rec- 
 ognition by the man who drove the coupe. If a man 
 should walk in here and say that he drove the closed car- 
 riage, we'd examine him, of course, but we've been una- 
 ble yet to find that man. The thing being in the papers, 
 it may happen in fact, it's quite likely that the miss- 
 ing driver will turn up to-day. Cabmen are usually anx- 
 ious to please the department. I suppose the evidence of 
 the cabman would be satisfactory, wouldn't it?" 
 
 "Quite, if I was satisfied that it was the man, and that 
 he told the truth." 
 
 "I guess you're hard to satisfy, Miss Hilman." 
 
 "Mr. Bowker," and Clara beamed on him with a smile 
 so sweet and radiant that he started with astonishment, 
 "I think you are working hard and as faithfully as you 
 know how to prove a theory which you formed early in 
 your investigations, even before you had Lizzie White's 
 fight to base it on. I shouldn't think you'd do that, you 
 know. Honestly, wouldn't you rather find out the truth, 
 even if it did upset your first theory?" 
 
 Bowker stared in undisguised discomfort, 
 
 "If you've got any facts," he said, "you'd ought to let 
 us have them. Of course we want to find out the truth. 
 What is it you know, or think of?" 
 
 "No, thank you, Mr. Bowker," responded Clara, rising, 
 and still bewildering him with her lovely smiles ; "you 
 work along in your way and I'll work in mine. When I 
 learn that you've found anything worth considering, I may 
 take you into my confidence ; I might even co-operate 
 with you. Good-afternoon." 
 
 No one was more amazed at Clara's coolness that her 
 Cousin Louise. 
 
 "I don't see how you can do it, Clara," she said when 
 they were again in Pemberton Square. 
 
 "Do you realize," returned Clara, "what might happen 
 if I didn't do something of this kind? Somebody must 
 
66 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 stir everybody else up, or else the public will not only 
 come to believe that Ivan was false, but we shall never 
 find him. I may be making mistakes, but I don't believe 
 that detective will be content to stop where he is. He'll 
 look further, and the further he looks the more certainly 
 will he find that he has been working at a wrong theory. 
 Let's go somewhere and find a business directory." 
 
 They went to the parlor of a neighboring hotel, where 
 for an hour Clara busied herself making a list of all the 
 livery and hack stables in the city. Then she hired a cab, 
 and for hours the young ladies went from one to another 
 stable, Clara always with the same inquiry, seeking for 
 some trace of him whom for convenience she came to call 
 the "second driver." 
 
 There is no need to go into the details of her tedious 
 search. It was not concluded when evening came, and 
 she had to desist from sheer fatigue. She had found no 
 clew that promised the discovery of the one witness who 
 could certainly be of use to her. 
 
 From Mrs. White's Litizki went to his shop and toiled 
 patiently and methodically for two or three hours. He 
 hardly opened his lips during the whole time, but his 
 brain was busy with projects. That Poubalov was respon- 
 sible for the fate of Ivan Strobel did not admit of a shadow 
 of doubt ; that he had concealed the young man in his 
 lodgings was not so certain, but Litizki deemed it alto- 
 gether probable. The spy would have plenty of money, 
 he could have put up at a hotel; why had he not done so? 
 Because, according to Litizki's reasoning, he had uses for 
 a lodging to which the public conveniences of a hotel could 
 not safely be bent. Distrustful of all men, the spy would 
 keep his prisoner under his own charge, and in a lodging- 
 house it would not be difficult to purchase the discreet 
 silence of a not too scrupulous landlady concerning a mys- 
 terious co-tenant. 
 
 The more he thought about it the more firmly the idea 
 took possession of the tailor that Strobel was confined in 
 the Bulfinch Place lodging-house which Poubalov had en- 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 67 
 
 tered by means of a latch-key. If any one had suggested 
 to him the spy's arguments to the effect that as the agent 
 of a friendly government he could not venture, if he 
 would, to violate American law, Litizki would have 
 laughed, and that would have been very significant of his 
 immeasurable contempt for the argument, for it was not 
 in the memory of his associates that the tailor had ever 
 smiled. His nearest approach to it, in fact, was when he 
 manifested pleasure at the idea of being countenanced in 
 an investigation of Poubalov's doings in his own way. Re- 
 spect American law, indeed! Then would Poubalov be 
 other than he was, and the leopard might be expected to 
 change his spots. 
 
 Litizki hated Poubalov with all the concentrated venom 
 of his small nature, a nature that had known little of 
 good in the world save in Ivan Strobel's kindness, that had 
 felt the blows of tj'ranny and the stabs of treachery at the 
 hands of this same spy. A desire for vengeance haa smol- 
 dered long in his heart, and he had never expected that 
 any breeze of fortune would fan it into living flame; and 
 now, suddenly, it had burst forth a raging fire, and the 
 possibility of opportunity rose before his dull eyes as the 
 one glad hope of his wretched life. Poubalov in America ! 
 Poubalov at his treacherous work against the one man 
 who had inspired Litizki with confidence and stirred his 
 affections! and he, Litizki, knew Poubalov's secret, knew 
 where he could lay hands upon him ! Fate must have 
 placed him there in order that Litizki's vengeance might 
 be the more complete. 
 
 The tailor laid down his tools and bent his head upon 
 his hands. Poubalov must be checkmated, Strobel res- 
 cued ; and if in accomplishing this end, the spy should be 
 Well, what then? 
 
 Litizki put on a long coat with a high collar that he 
 turned up about his ears, and a soft hat that he pulled 
 down over his eyes. At the foot of the stairs that led to 
 his shop he met Paul Palovna. 
 
 "Hello, Litizki, "exclaimed the young man, "where in 
 
68 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 the world are you going rigged out as if it were winter?' 
 
 The grotesque little figure looked sourly up at the in- 
 quirer and replied : 
 
 "I am going to begin my work." 
 
 "See here. Litizki," said Paul, seriously, "you mustn't 
 do anything rash. I was just coming to see you to give 
 you warning. Poubalov is dangerous and very clever. 
 Don't get yourself into trouble, and don't spoil all 
 chance of trapping him, if he has really got hold of Stro- 
 bel, by any premature act." 
 
 The little tailor reflected. 
 
 "For myself, "he answered presently, "nothing mat- 
 ters. I will be careful, Paul Palovna, as careful as man 
 can be not to compromise any chances. I shall act for my- 
 self alone. Nobody sends me, nobody influences me. If I 
 succeed, we shall all rejoice; if I fail" he shrugged his 
 shoulders significantly "I will be the only loser. I prom- 
 ise you not to be rash, Paul Palovnft, for the sake of 
 noble Ivan Strobel and his beautiful lady." 
 
 Then he moved away, and Palovna knew hardly 
 whether to smile at his ludicrous make-up, or shudder at 
 the purpose that unquestionably lurked in his thoughts. 
 
 "I hope good may come of it!" sighed Palovna. 
 
 Litizki went to Bulfinch Place, and shrinking as far as 
 possible into his long coat, walked along on the sidewalk 
 opposite Poubalov 's house. Yes, there the villain was, 
 calmly reading a newspaper! One flight from the ground, 
 front room. At the side of the room was a smaller one 
 over the hall. Litizki knew the arrangement of the houses 
 in that vicinity, and the blinds of that room were closed. 
 Perhaps, though, the prison chamber would be in some 
 more remote part of the house. Time and the night would 
 tell. 
 
 The tailor went to the corner of Bowdoin Street, and 
 stood there, unmindful of the curious glances of passers^ 
 until he saw Poubalov leave the lodging-house. It was 
 just possible that the spy had his prisoner concealed else- 
 where, and was now going to him. Litizki followed. It oc-i 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 69 
 
 curred to him that now might be the time to get into the 
 house on some pretext and make a search, but he dis- 
 missed the thought as ruinous. If Strobel were there, the 
 landlady would be paid to be watchful during Poubalov's 
 absence. No; the night was the time when nobody would 
 be watching, and when every corner in the house could be 
 searched from cellar to garret. 
 
 Poubalov went to State Street, and entered the bank 
 where Strobel had been employed. He brushed past 
 Litizki when he emerged, but apparently did not see him. 
 The tailor followed him from one place to another, waited 
 under a hotel window for an hour while the spy was din- 
 ing, saw him into a theatre and eventually back to his 
 lodgings, where he arrived at about eleven o'clock. It was 
 evident that he went directly to bed, for the light in his 
 room was extinguished very shortly after he went in. 
 
 Litizki then went to a cheap restaurant, where he ap- 
 peased his appetite and drank several cups of bad tea. It 
 was after midnight before he left the place, and his one 
 wish was that he had a dark lantern. To make up for his 
 lack, he was plentifully supplied with matches. 
 
 A printer, whom Litizki knew by sight, lived in the 
 house adjoining the one where Poubalov lodged. The 
 tailor knew that he ordinarily arrived home at one 
 o'clock. He was on time this night, antl as he turned into 
 the tiny yard before the building, Litizki stepped down 
 from the doorway. 
 
 "I'm glad you've come," he said, "I left my key in the 
 room and I can't rouse anybody by ringing." 
 
 "No," responded the printer with a laugh, "they don't 
 get up for anybody. How long you been living here?" 
 
 "Only a few days." 
 
 The door was opened, and both men went upstairs. The 
 printer, with a cheery "good-night, "entered a room on the 
 second landing. Litizki continued to the top floor, and 
 thence through a skylight to the roof. Fortune was, in- 
 deed, favoring him. He had supposed the skylight would 
 be raised for the sake of ventilation. There had been 
 
70 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 doubt whether the steps leading to it would be in place. 
 
 He cared little whether the skylight on the adjoining 
 roof would be found open and the steps in place, or not; 
 he would get in in any event. Both were in just the con-| 
 dition most favorable to his project, and a moment lateri 
 Litizki had struck a match and was peering about in an 
 empty room on the top floor of Poubalov's lodging house. 
 
 The little tailor exulted more and more as he crept down 
 the stairs after examining every room. Not a sleeper 
 had been awakened, not a door had been found locked. 
 He would search the whole house before trying the door 
 to the hall room adjoining Poubalov's. That would be 
 found locked. He had no doubt he should pick the lock, 
 for he had skeleton keys in his pocket, and if not a vig-j 
 orous shove and he would burst it open. What cared he 
 for details at the very end of his search? 
 
 He had come to the floor above the spy's room. Here, 
 as before, every door was unlocked, most of the rooms 
 empty. He had just extinguished a match preparatory to 
 descending further, when from somewhere out of the 
 darkness heavy hands were laid upon him and he was 
 borne to the floor. Another instant and a hand was pressed 
 upon his mouth and there was a dazzling flash of light 
 from a dark lantern held over him. 
 
 Litizki saw the cruel eyes of Alexander Poubalov glar-j 
 ing down, and then the slide of the lantern was closed 
 again. 
 
LITIZKI' S LESSON. 72 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LITIZKl'S LESSON. 
 
 There had been no scuffle and almost no noise as the 
 tailor fell to the floor, but one of the chamber doors 
 opened, nevertheless, and a startled voice asked: "What's 
 that?" 
 
 "Sorry you've been disturbed," said Poubalov; "a 
 friend of mine, with a little more of a load than he could 
 manage, has stumbled. That's all. I will look out for 
 him." 
 
 The inquirer went back to bed grumbling, and as soon 
 as the door closed Poubalov whispered in Eussian: "Will 
 you keep quiet, or shall I have to quiet you?" and he re- 
 moved his hand from Litizki's mouth. 
 
 "It's all one to me, Alexander Poubalov," muttered the 
 tailor, and, feeling the pressure removed, he rose to his 
 feet. Still speaking Russian, the spy remarked: 
 
 "You are so good at finding your way in the dark that I 
 will not pull the slide of my lantern. I should dislike, for 
 your sake, to have you recognized. Go down and enter my 
 room." 
 
 Litizki felt for the banister, and, guided by it, walked 
 down the flight and opened the door, as directed, into his 
 captor's room. When Poubalov came in he closed and 
 bolted the door, then opened the lantern and let its rays 
 fall on Litizki from head to feet, and head again, as if he 
 were curiously studying the make-up. He laughed softly 
 at last and said : 
 
 "There's a chair just back of you. Sit down." 
 
 The tailor sank into it, and Poubalov lit the gas. In the 
 general light Litizki saw that the spy was fully dressed 
 save for his coat, and that the folding bed which was a 
 
72 LITIZKPS LESSON. 
 
 feature of the furniture had not been let down. Poubalov 
 noticed Litizki's glance and understood : 
 
 "No, iny friend," he said suavely, "I did not go to bed. 
 I expected you, and sat up to receive you." 
 
 Litizki groaned. Until then he had hoped desperately 
 that even as a prisoner he would be able to accomplish 
 something ; now, convinced that the spy had prepared 
 for his coming, he realized that his effort had been in 
 vain. The awful sense of the unshakable power this man 
 represented and wielded came over him as it did in those 
 gloomy days in Russia when he had to choose between 
 voluntary exile and certain banishment. 
 
 Poubalov drew a chair to a little table in the middle of 
 the room, and sat down opposite the tailor. 
 
 "Nicholas Litizki," he said, "you have surprised and 
 grieved me! I would not have supposed that even a resi- 
 dence of several years in America could have made you 
 forget that Alexander Poubalov never takes a step until 
 lie is thoroughly prepared for it. I, who hardly know 
 what the word emotion means, am almost hurt. Surely it 
 must be that contact with republican institutions deadens 
 a man's sensibilities and affects his memory." 
 
 Litizki's small eyes had been fixed upon those of his ad- 
 versary from the beginning. They had relapsed to their 
 customary dull expression, but they glowed faintly with 
 new life, for, the first edge of his disappointment dulled, 
 he recalled the two great purposes for which he had in- 
 vaded the house: vengeance and the rescue of Ivan Stro- 
 bel. Neither purpose might be lost, and if he must forego 
 or postpone vengeance, he would not prejudice what 
 means others might have at command for saving his ben- 
 efactor. 
 
 "Poubalov," said the tailor, "1 am an American citi- 
 zen." 
 
 "I bow to your discretion," responded the spy, "but I 
 knew it. You think to hide behind the generous skirts of 
 your adopted country's goddess. Good! I admit the effi- 
 cacy of the refuge, for the accredited agent of the czar- 
 
LITIZKPS LESSON. 73 
 
 whom God preserve, Nicholas Litizki will do nothing in 
 a friendly country in violation of that country's laws. But 
 see, iny friend, what a tower of strength a proper respect 
 for the law becomes: I not only knew you were coining, 
 but I knew what you were coming for, and 1 need not say 
 that I knew what way you would take. I have kept within 
 the law, and yet 1 found out aU about you and your asso 
 ciates before I had been in Boston no matter how long. 
 Poor fellow ! did you really think that Poubalov's eyes did 
 not penetrate your flimsy disguise? I am sorry, Litizki; 
 your patience and devotion would fit you for service in 
 the holy cause of the czar, and it is not at all adapted to 
 pursuing the steps of honest men." 
 
 "You do not frighten me," interposed Litizki; "I know 
 your superlative cunning and your crooked ways. Your 
 speech nauseates me. 'Honest men!' Bah!" 
 
 "We won't dispute over trifles, then. I simply call to 
 your attention the fact that you unlawfully invade a 
 dwelling-house, prowling about like a common thief and 
 thus place yourself unreservedly in my power. Of course, 
 Nicholas Litizki did not enter enter here to commit theft. 
 He came to find his friend, Ivan Strobel." 
 
 "It is a lie, Alexander Poubavol! I sought him not." 
 
 "You know whether it is a lie, or not. So do I. There- 
 fore we will not argue the matter. Well, what are you go- 
 ing to do now that you are here?" 
 
 Litizki boiled with futile rage. He was trapped not 
 only literally as Poubalov's prisoner, but he felt how 
 weak he was in any contest of words with this shrewd 
 master of deceit. He had spoken truly in telling Paul Pa- 
 lovna that it mattered not what became of him, and al- 
 though those words were uttered under the influence of 
 a desire for vengeance that constant dwelling upon had 
 turned to conviction that he would succeed, he now felt 
 them to be as true, for he despaired, as he had been de- 
 spairing for years, of accomplishing anything that would 
 be worth the doing. Why had he presumed to undertake 
 the hopeless task of outwitting Poubalov? He saw how 
 
74 LITIZKPS LESSON. 
 
 wildly foolish had been his course, but his conviction re- 
 mained unshaken. 
 
 "Have it so, then," he hissed; "respect for law is not in 
 your character. You have unlawfully taken possession of 
 IvanStrobel." 
 
 "Yes?" responded Poubalov quietly; "you are very 
 sure of that?" 
 
 "I know it, yes; I did coine here to find him, to liber- 
 ate, ay, to kill you if need be!" 
 
 "Indeed! the same, familiar antagonism to the author- 
 ity of Russia, I suppose. The Russian agent is to you like 
 the red flag to the bull. Yes, very interesting. Well, Li- 
 tizki?" 
 
 "Alexander Poubalov!" exclaimed the tailor, rising and 
 speaking with all his long-treasured bitterness, "you have 
 Ivan Strobel, an American citizen, in your power; you re- 
 strain him illegally of his liberty, with what purpose it 
 matters not. I, as an American citizen, demand that you 
 release him." 
 
 Poubalov looked with mock admiration at the fierce but 
 grotesque figure before him, and said : 
 
 "Good! very good! I am not certain but that demand 
 is good law. I shall have to think of it. When, Nicholas 
 Litizki?" 
 
 "I cannot tolerate your smart language," returned Li- 
 tizki; "give him up now. It will be worse for you if you 
 fool with me. You threw me down in the dark because I 
 was taken unawares. In the light I can make my own 
 fight, Alexander Poubalov! Como! Ivan Strobel is in that 
 room, behind that door, and if you have not stopped his 
 ears as you have gagged his mouth and bound his limbs, 
 he hears my voice now and knows it. I should be less 
 than man should I not take even a desperate step to res- 
 cue him, my friend, my benefactor!" 
 
 Even to the cynical spy the grotesqueness of the little 
 tailor's figure and make-up disappeared in the exaltation 
 up to which his emotions bore him. He took one deter- 
 mined stride toward the door to the little hall room. 
 
LITIZKPS LESSON. 75 
 
 "Nicholas Litizki," said Poubalov, softly. 
 
 The tailor turned, such was the compelling power of 
 that deep voice, and for the instant his progress was 
 checked. Poubalov had extended one arm upon the table 
 and his hand was toying with a revolver. 
 
 "I believe you, my friend, " remarked the spy, hardly 
 looking toward the tailor at first, but later concentrating 
 his gleaming eyes upon him, "I believe you when you 
 say by actions if not by words that you would die for 
 your friend, and that you do not care what becomes of 
 you. But you have some degree of cleverness, Litizki. 
 We learned that years ago. Listen, then, just a moment 
 before you lay hand upon that door. It is locked, Litizki. 
 Before you could open it I could put a bullet through 
 your heart. Would I not dare? What should a peaceable 
 lodger not do to a man who stealthily enters his house by 
 night? Who would disbelieve me if I should calmly re- 
 port to the police that you came as a burglar, and that I 
 shot at you in protection of property and life? Suppose, 
 however, that I prefer to avoid a disturbance. Before 
 you could more than wrench the knob of that door once, I 
 could pierce your heart silently." 
 
 Poubalov rose and stood towering over Litizki, a knife 
 glistening in his right hand. 
 
 "You know something of my resources," he continued, 
 "and whether I would be likely to find difficulty 'in. dis- 
 posing of your lifeless body. Why ! you have come so 
 secretly that you and I alone know of your whereabout. 
 We would then have another disappearance to add to the 
 Strobel mystery, but one that would not be half as inter- 
 esting, Litizki, not half." 
 
 "You have killed Ivan Strobel!" whispered Litizki, 
 shrinking away. 
 
 "In that inference," said Poubalov, contemptuously, as 
 he laid his weapons on the table and resumed his seat, 
 "your madness reaches its climax and you will speedily 
 recover. You will not go to that door now. You see how 
 useless it would be. Live, and you may yet see your 
 
76 LITIZKPS LESSON. 
 
 friend, may yet assist in liberating him. Understand me, 
 Nicholas Litizki: I have not come to this country for 
 nothing. I have a mission to perform, and nothing shall 
 prevent me from performing it, and in my own way." 
 
 4 'You will then keep Strohel a prisoner, " muttered Li- 
 tizki, "until you have wrung from him by cruelty what 
 you have come for?" 
 
 "I shall perform my mission. Now it would be per- 
 fectly easy for me to remove you, for you are making 
 yourself an obstacle, a slight one, to my plans. It pleases 
 me better, however, that you should live, and you may 
 yet be an assistance to me. I will show you to the street 
 door whenever you feel ready to depart." 
 
 Litizki shot a glance full of evil at his captor, but 1*011- 
 balov ignored it, and calmly lighted the inevitable cigar- 
 ette. 
 
 " Very well, Alexander Poubalov," said Liti/ki after a 
 moment, "you may let me go, but expect no gratitude 
 from mo. I know only too well that you think to servo 
 your foul purposes by my liberty, but, weak as I am, I 
 .shall not rest until Sfcrobel is restored to us or his fa to 
 made known, and even after that I shall pursue you ! 
 You teach mo a lesson, Poubalov, a hard one, but I shall 
 learn it." 
 
 "I hope you will. Life will be easier if you do. Must 
 you go now? Permit me, " and with a fine pretense at 
 courtesy he unbolted the door and accompanied Litizki to 
 tho street door, which he also opened. 
 
 "Good-night, Nicholas Litizki," he whispered as he 
 withdrew again into the house. 
 
 It was Litizki's purpose to go at once to the house where 
 Paul Palovna lodged, rouse him, and tell him his experi- 
 ence, with all the admissions that Poubalov had seemed 
 to make, and all the inferences that were to be drawn 
 from his remarks and innuendoes ; but as he hurried along 
 in the cool night air he felt as if something were leaving 
 him. He slackened his pace, halted irresolutely, went on a 
 few steps, and at last leaned heavily against a building 
 
L1TIZKTS LESSON. 77 
 
 and struck his hand angrily against his brow, muttering : 
 
 "Fool, fool!" 
 
 What was this sense of loss but a relief from the domi- 
 nating influence of Poubalov's stronger personality? 
 There, with all his desperation, even at the height of his 
 exaltation, when he seemed to tread the border lands of 
 heroism, he had halted at a single word from the spy. He 
 had stood and listened to threats and sophistry, and had 
 been moved by the one and convinced by the other. 
 
 No! he could not tell all this to Palovna, or to any 
 other person except Strobel ; to him, if he should ever re- 
 turn, he would make a full confession of his defeat. For 
 the present he must keep it to himself, and if he would 
 still do something to effect his vengeance and rescue 
 Strobel, he must work in secret. And as he reflected that 
 it was just this course that Poubalov undoubtedly ex- 
 pected him to take, he groaned and slunk abashed and 
 mortified to his lonely room. 
 
 In the early morning, without waiting to read newspa- 
 pers, or submit to interviews from reporters, should they 
 call again at the house, Clara and Louise set forth to fin- 
 ish their search for the "second driver." Again they had 
 a tedious, fruitless experience. Now and again it seemed 
 momentarily as if they had come upon a clew to the man, 
 but Clara's keen questions invariably brought them to the 
 same disappointing end. By noon they had visited every 
 livery stable in Boston. 
 
 "Don't think me unkind, Clara," ventured Louise, "but 
 I fear we ought to give this up. I don't know that I can 
 say just why, for I sympathize with you as deeply as ever, 
 and, like you, I believe in Ivan; but somehow I fear." 
 
 "There are the stables in Cambridge and Somerville, " 
 responded Clara, absently; "we haven't been there. For- 
 give me, dear! I didn't mean to ignore what you said. 
 We are both tired. I had meant to call at Mrs. White's 
 before returning, but we will go home and rest, and see if 
 fresh thinking will help us. There may be some word at 
 home by this time." 
 
78 LITIZKPS LESSON. 
 
 There was, indeed, some word at home. The servant 
 reported that Detective Bowker had called and would be 
 glad to see Miss Hilman, should she care to go downtown 
 during this afternoon ; and there were many letters from 
 friends who had learned of her trouble. All except one 
 were more or less sympathetic, but in more than one 
 there was a veiled remonstrance against her taking such 
 a vigorous and public part in the case. 
 
 The exception was unsigned and without date. It road : 
 
 "If Miss Hilman insists on being convinced with ter own eyes that 
 her 'lover' has been false, if she needs more proof to cause her to 
 withdraw from the ridiculous attitude she has assumed, why doesn't 
 she go to New York and find Lizzie White? The writer is certain that 
 she would return fully satisfied." 
 
COEUOBOEATIVE DETAIL. 79 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. 
 
 Clara had not corne sufficiently in contact with the evil 
 side of human nature to ignore an anonymous letter. She 
 felt all the contempt for the writer that he or she de- 
 served, and she spurned the suggestion contained in the 
 letter as utterly unworthy of a moment's attention. Yet 
 the sting was there. She might ignore the letter to all ap- 
 pearances, and yet not be able to forget it. The cruelty of 
 the writer was what she felt, not the force of the blow. 
 
 "I cannot understand," she said, laying the letter down 
 and taking a newspaper, "how a person can go out of his 
 way for the sole purpose of doing an unkind thing." 
 
 "What is it, dear?" asked Louise, stopping on her way 
 out of the room. 
 
 Clara started to show her the letter, but, overcome by a 
 sense of repugnance for it, answered : 
 
 "Let it pass until after luncheon. We shall have a great 
 deal to talk of then." 
 
 So Clara was left alone with the newspapers, and she 
 read them with amazement and consternation. At the 
 very first there was a little relief at finding no flaring 
 headlines on the first page, for she had no enjoyment in 
 the notoriety that the case thrust upon her. She bore it 
 simply as one of the unavoidable features of the situa- 
 tion. As she searched the first paper, the relief vanished, 
 and in its place came a growing wonder. The reports of 
 the abandoned wedding had been set forth in complete 
 detail with every expansion that fertile brains could sug- 
 gest, as if every city editor had said to his reporter, 
 "We'll stand all you can write." It had been the impor- 
 tant news feature of the day, and to Clara it had seemed 
 
80 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. 
 
 as if ever3 r newspaper in the city had undertaken to solve 
 the mystery. Where, then, was the long account of the 
 second day's developments? 
 
 Tucked obscurely away in the middle of a page devoted 
 to a miscellaneous assortment of news, she found a,t last 
 a few paragraphs setting forth the conclusions of the de- 
 tective bureau, that there was no financial irregularity to 
 be attributed to Mr. Strobel, and that the missing man 
 had undoubtedly eloped with Lizzie White. MissHilman's 
 health was reported to be good, and it was noted that 
 she had taken a personal hand in the investigation with 
 every appearance of confidence in the loyalty of her be- 
 trothed. 
 
 Clara found longer reports in the other papers, and the 
 one that had published the first intimation of the elope- 
 ment, continued to make it the sensation of the hour, 
 but it was a labored effort, devoted quite as much to ex- 
 ploiting its own enterprise in beating the other papers as 
 to setting forth the news. 
 
 So, then, the community, of which the newspapers were 
 the reflection, had contentedly accepted the first solution 
 that offered, and all her work had gone for nothing, worse 
 than nothing, for she found herself pictured as a pitiable 
 victim to her lover's faithlessness. The very fact that the 
 reporters refrained from bringing out the picture of her 
 misery in strong colors was evidence of the sincerity with 
 which they wrote. They were satisfied that Ivan had 
 eloped ! To tell how loyally she had clung to him would 
 be to put her in a ridiculous light before all readers. 
 
 The tears that came to Clara's eyes were angrily dashod 
 away at first, but they would flow, and after a moment she 
 gave full vent to them. Her experience was one that 
 comes only to those who have to suffer such great calami- 
 ties that for the time all Ijfe seems to be centered upon 
 them, and the awaking to the cold fact that all life runs 
 along just as before, and the great calamity speedily be- 
 comes an event of yesterday, is almost as hard to bear as 
 ttie original shock. This awakening with Clara was coin- 
 
CORE OB OEA TIVE DETAIL. 81 
 
 cident to a fresh determination to continue her search. 
 The world might- laugh if it chose to be so cruel ; she be- 
 lieved in her lover and would yet find him. 
 
 The bell had rung for luncheon, and drying her eyes, 
 Clara went into the dining room. Her uncle was already 
 at the table. His greeting was constrained but not lack- 
 ing in affection and sympathy. 
 
 "Don't you think it would be better, Clara," he said 
 gently after they had exchanged a few words, "to with- 
 draw for a while from public view? I am afraid you are 
 doing no good, and I will not conceal from you that I re- 
 gard your loyal search as hopeless. I am getting to be an 
 old man, and I have seen a great deal of the world, as we 
 reckon it by the human beings who populate it. This 
 blow that has fallen upon you has fallen on others before 
 your time, and it will fall again. This that seems to you 
 incredible has been no less incredible in the past " 
 
 "Stop, please, uncle,'' interrupted Clara; "I cannot 
 draw comparisons, and if I could they would be value-, 
 less. I must judge my affair by its own circumstances 
 alone. I believe Ivan has done no wrong, and it is 
 nothing less than my duty to him and myself to right the 
 wrong that has been done to him." 
 
 "But tell me, my dear child, is there anything in the 
 situation that promises a solution other than that found 
 by the detectives and the reporters?" 
 
 "Yes, uncle, there is," replied Clara in a low tone, "and 
 I am glad the reporters have not found the clew, and I am 
 not sorry that Mr. Bowker missed it, too. I will tell you 
 about it." 
 
 "Papa," said Louise, coming into the room at this mo- 
 ment, "Mr. Dexter has called. 1 was coming downstairs 
 when the bell rang, and I answered it. I showed him into 
 the library." 
 
 'I wish he would confine his calls to the office, " ex- 
 claimed Mr. Pembroke, impatiently. "You will have to 
 excuse me, though, for I am obliged to see him." 
 
82 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. 
 
 "I am afraid papa is having a serious time with his 
 business," said Louise, after he had gone. 
 
 "Everything comes at once, doesn't it?" responded 
 Clara; "I am so sorry! He wants me to give up trying to 
 find Ivan, dear. It hurts me to displease uncle, but what 
 would you do? I think he would like to have me go away 
 for a time." 
 
 "Oh, I don't think that! I am sure he feels toward you 
 as if you were his own daughter." 
 
 "I am sure he does, Lou. A father couldn't be more af- 
 fectionate and kind ; but in this matter, how can I yield 
 to his wishes? He does not know. " 
 
 "Do you mean about Mr. Poubalov?" 
 
 "Partly, but I had more in mind that no one could know 
 Ivan's character as well as I do." 
 
 Louisu thought of her own budding love. If Ralph Har- 
 mon were under suspicion, could she fail to defend him? 
 Could she think of him as other than honorable and faith- 
 ful? 
 
 A servant passed through the room, and left the door in 
 the hall carelessly ajar. Neither of the young ladies no- 
 ticed it. 
 
 "Clara, " said Louise, "I should try to do just as you 
 are doing, but I know I could not be so brave. I think if 
 you should tell uncle about Mr. Poubalov it might make 
 him feel better." 
 
 "I intend to do so, " replied Clara, "and would have 
 done so last evening if he had been at home." 
 
 They were interrupted by Mr. Pembroke's voice. He 
 had stepped from the library into the hall, and was speak- 
 ing with ill-suppressed anger. 
 
 "I won't listen to anything you have to say on the mat- 
 ter, " he said, "and I will ask you to confine your talks to 
 mo to business matteis; and when you must see me, go 
 to the office." 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted old Dexter in reply, "she'll make you 
 as ridiculous as she makes herself." 
 
COEEOBORATIVE DETAIL. 83 
 
 "Dexter," exclaimed Mr. Pembroke, "I think you're 
 the worst villain unhung!" 
 
 "H'm, h'm, h'm," muttered Dexter, "you're a fool, Mat 
 Pembroke. I think you're a fool!" 
 
 The front door closed loudly and Mr. Pembroke strode 
 into the dining-room, where the young ladies were look- 
 ing at each other with astonished eyes. Mr. Pembroke 
 was flushed, and he bit his lip with added vexation as he 
 noticed that his daughter and niece had heard the last 
 words of his conversation with Dexter. 
 
 "I am sorry " he began, his voice still shaking with 
 
 anger. He did not complete his remark, but sat down and 
 tried to eat. 
 
 After a moment Clara rose and put her arms softly 
 about his neck. 
 
 "I am sorry, too, uncle dear," she said, "that you have 
 so much trouble about me. Of course that vile man was 
 speaking of me." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke shuddered violently at her first touch. 
 He released her arms abruptly and stood up. 
 
 "No, don't!" he said with an expression of the deepest 
 pain; "you continue your search in your own way, child. 
 Don't mind about me or anybody else, least of all that 
 that meddlesome Dexter." 
 
 "I was going to tell you some of the information I 
 learned yesterday, uncle." 
 
 "No, no! no, no! I don't want to hear it that is, not 
 nocv. Forgive me, child; I am disturbed by business mat- 
 ters and cannot attend to it nofo This evening if you like. 
 Good-by." 
 
 He hastened from the room, more agitated than when 
 he had come in. 
 
 "It's a shame," said Clara, bitterly, "that any one who 
 is in trouble has to annoy all those who are near to her." 
 
 "I wouldn't think of it that way, dear," responded 
 Louise; "papa is as sympathetic as can be, and I am sure 
 that when he gets over his anger at this Mr. Dexter's in- 
 terference, there will be nothing to regret. He said him- 
 
84 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. 
 
 self, you know, that he would talk with you this even- 
 ing." 
 
 "I hope I shall have something definite to tell him 
 then," said Clara. "Will you go downtown with me again 
 this afternoon?" 
 
 Of course she would, and in due time, therefore, the 
 young ladies were again at police headquarters. Detective 
 Bowker was evidently highly pleased with himself, al- 
 though he manfully tried to suppress any signs of triumph. 
 
 "I called at your house this forenoon, Miss Hilman," he 
 said, "to inform you that the driver of the closed car- 
 riage has been found." 
 
 "What does he say?" asked Clara eagerly. 
 
 "He corroborates what I told you yesterday.' 
 
 "Does he say that he drove Mr. Strobel to the Park 
 Square Station?" 
 
 "Yes, just as I told you." 
 
 "Can I see him?" 
 
 "I have no doubt you will be able to do so. He is not 
 here now. He has gone about his work, but I can have 
 him here at any time, or he will call on you. He suggested 
 that himself when I told him that you would be pretty 
 likely to doubt his story." 
 
 "I should like to see him," said Clara, her voice faint 
 and tremulous in spite of herself. "W T hen did you find 
 him, Mr. Bowker?" 
 
 "Well, as to that," replied the detective, reluctantly, 
 "Billings came in here early this morning. You know I 
 said that might happen." 
 
 "Yes. What stable does he drive for?" 
 
 "What stable?" echoed Bowker with his stare of sur- 
 prise; "why should you ask that, Miss Hilman?" 
 
 "Because I have visited every stable in Boston to find 
 whether any employee could have been driving a closed 
 carriage along Park Street at the hour when the wheel of 
 Mr. Strobel's coupe came off." 
 
 "Whew! you did mean business, didn't you?" ex- 
 claimed Bowker with evident admiration. "It's a pity you 
 
CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. 85 
 
 had such a time of it. Billings drove his own carriage. He 
 wasn't connected with any of the stables." 
 
 "I am glad to know that my search did not fail 
 through any lack of thorough inquiry, " said Clara, and 
 she felt her courage reviving. "Will you send word to 
 this Mr. Billings that I would like to see him?" 
 
 "Certainly. When shall I tell him to call?" 
 
 "Any time this evening. And, Mr. Bowker, can you not 
 give me the name of the man who said he saw Mr. Strobel 
 buy a ticket for New York?" 
 
 "I cannot do so. The fact is, we haven't the name. I 
 expected to get it, honestly I did, for I heard that Strobel 
 was recognized in the station by a friend; but that friend 
 hasn't turned up; and, to tell you the plain truth, we 
 don't think it necessary to inquire for him." 
 
 "It seems to me " began Clara, stopping and reflect- 
 ing. She was going to protest against the imperfect char- 
 acter of the investigation, but she thought better of it. 
 This detective unquestionably had no interest to find other 
 than the truth, and with his low conceptions of character, 
 due doubtless to his frequent contact with criminals, it 
 would be but natural for him to see no other explanation 
 for Ivan's disappearance than the one to substantiate 
 which he had obtained a certain amount of evidence. If 
 even her good uncle were disposed to view the idea of the 
 elopement as a possibility, nay, as a probability, what bet- 
 ter could be expected of one to whom Ivan was merely a 
 man like other men? And the evidence of the "second 
 driver" which was undoubtedly straightforward Per- 
 haps Ivan had gone to New York. How could she tell? 
 
 Not with Lizzie White, of course, but She would talk 
 
 with the driver. 
 
 "I shall be greatly obliged," she concluded, "if you will 
 send me word should any new development turn up. I 
 don't suppose I can expect you to pay any further atten- 
 tion to the case." 
 
 "We may hear from New York at any time," replied 
 
86 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. 
 
 Bowker; "the police there are on the lookout for Strobel, 
 and if we hear anything I will let you know." 
 
 Louise tucked her arm affectionately within Clara's, 
 and asked: 
 
 "Where now, dear?" 
 
 4 'We will go to Mrs. White's," responded Clara, drear- 
 ily. Her faith was yet undisturbed, but the mystery 
 seemed the darker, for if the wily Russian had had to do 
 with Ivan's departure, how much harder it would be to 
 find him in New York than in Boston ! Then, had he gone 
 voluntarily, might it not be possible that he did not wish 
 her to search for him? Surely he would write if he could. 
 With that thought, and a renewed conviction that Ivan 
 was somehow constrained of his liberty, she arrived at 
 Mrs. White's house. 
 
 "I'm so glad to see you," cried the landlady, "with all 
 this talk in the papers. I have heard from Lizzie. See! 
 Here is the letter." 
 
 She handed a sheet of paper to Clara. It was not a long 
 letter, but what little there was was rambling in style. It 
 was dated from Second Avenue, New York, and stated 
 that the writer had found a new home. 
 
 "I should be happy," she wrote, "if it wasn't for the 
 way I had to go. But there wasn't any other way. After 
 a while I shall tell you all about it." 
 
 Clara 's quick perceptions told her that any person with 
 the elopement explanation in his head would see a signifi- 
 cance in these words that could not fail to reflect unfavor- 
 ably upon Ivan. 
 
 "Mrs. White," she said tremulously, "you won't show 
 this letter to reporters, or detectives, or any body else, will 
 you?" 
 
 J 
 
 t 
 
 v / 
 
STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 87 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 
 
 "I had already shown it to Mr. Bowker, " replied Mrs. 
 White, anxiously; "I thought it might convince him that 
 Lizzie had nothing to do with the disappearance of Mr. 
 Strobel." 
 
 "It didn't convince him," said Clara, bitterly; "but no 
 matter. May I copy Miss Lizzie's address?" 
 
 "Of course. Are you going to write to her?" 
 
 "Perhaps so. Have you written yet?" 
 
 "I haven't had time, but I shall do so this afternoon. Is 
 there something you would like to have me say?" 
 
 Clara was intent with her thoughts. 
 
 "Mrs. White," she said presently, "if you write to- 
 night, could you omit any reference to Mr. Strobel?" 
 
 "Land sakes!" exclaimed the good lady; "whatever 
 should I write about then? With Lizzie's name in the 
 papers, and everybody believing that she ran away with 
 Mr. Strobel, what should I say?" 
 
 "I suppose it would be hard to ignore it ajtogether, but 
 couldn't you omit saying anything of the rumors that 
 have connected their names?" 
 
 "Why, I'll try to, Miss Hilman, but Lizzie will have to 
 know about it some time." . 
 
 "Certainly, when you write to-morrow you can say 
 what you please about it. Just for to-day I wish you 
 wouldn't. I'll come down early to-morrow morning, and 
 perhaps I will be able to tell you a great deal more than 
 you know now, more than any of us know." 
 
 "I do hope you will hear something definite," said Mrs. 
 White, "for you can't tell how much easier I am to know 
 that Lizzie's settled somewhere, that she's alive and in a 
 
88 STRANGE EXIT OF PO UBAL O V. 
 
 home. If you only knew that Mr. Strohel was sick in a 
 hospital, now, it would be better, wouldn't it?" 
 
 "Nothing is so dreadful as uncertainty," replied Clara; 
 "you'll be very careful what you write then?" 
 
 "As for that, Miss Hilman, I don't see that I need to 
 write at all to-day. It's only a day more, and if you say it 
 won't make any difference to you what I say to-morrow, 
 I'll put it off till then if you like." 
 
 "I should be so much obliged! Have you seen Mr. Li- 
 tizki to-day?" 
 
 "No, nor the dark gentleman, either. Mr. Litizki's shop 
 is not far from here, if you'd like to see him." 
 
 Clara inquired the way, and soon after the young ladies 
 set out for the little tailor's place of business. 
 
 Litizki was his own master in business, and he em- 
 ployed two or more fellow-countrymen as assistants, the 
 number varying with the demands of his enterprise. On 
 this day there were several men in the shop, but they were 
 not there as workmen. Most of them had come to talk 
 with Litizki about the Strobel case. He was not very com- 
 municative, but that was his way. Nevertheless he had 
 some things to say, and for this reason his acquaintances 
 found that he talked much more freely than usual. 
 
 "I tell you, "he insisted, his dull eyes glowing with 
 hate, "Alexander Poubalov is in Boston. I am not one to 
 be mistaken in that man, and his presence here means 
 trouble for any, perhaps all of us." 
 
 "What could he wish to do against poor Russians, Nich- 
 olas Litizki, who have no intention of revisiting their na- 
 tive country?" asked one of the group. 
 
 "Better ask what has he done?" retorted the tailor. 
 "Here is Ivan Strobel, more prosperous than we, with 
 more powerful friends, and what has Poubalov done to 
 him? Would that I knew !" 
 
 "As soon as Poubalov appears," remarked another, 
 "Litizki will lay the very next crime that occurs to his 
 hands." 
 
 "Where Poubalov goes," said Litizki, "you will ever 
 
STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 8y 
 
 find treachery and oppression. It is not for you, Peter, to 
 make light of Poubalov. You have felt his hand as well 
 as I." 
 
 "Yes," admitted Peter, "but in the Strobel matter you 
 do not forget what the police have discovered, do you? 
 Well might you suspect the dirty spy, were it not that one 
 does not go far, it seems, to find the woman in the case." 
 
 "Bah!" sneered Litizki; do you forget that there are two 
 women in the case? And have you seen either of them? 
 No. Well, I have seen both. I have no unkind word for 
 Lizzie White, with whom they say he went away ; but I 
 tell you, friends, Ivan Strobel could not have preferred 
 her to Miss Hilman." He pronounced the name softly as 
 if it aroused a feeling akin to reverence. "You should see 
 her, " he continued ; "she is a very angel of beauty and 
 goodness. Happy would be the man whose privilege it 
 was simply to worship her; and as for him whom she 
 would permit to love her Bah ! talk to me not about the 
 woman in the case until you have seen Miss JJilman." 
 
 His friends listened gravely. They found nothing ludi- 
 crous in Litizki 's occasionally extravagant language. When 
 he was stirred to something like eloquence, it was almost 
 always by a memory of the wrongs he had suffered, and 
 then no language could have been too imaginative to ex- 
 press the bitterness with which his sympathetic hearers 
 listened. 
 
 "Where did you see her, Litizki?" asked one of them. 
 *"Never mind now," he replied; "I have seen her since 
 Strobel disappeared. She is bearing up bravely, and scorns 
 the suggestion that he eloped with Miss White. She is 
 devoting her life to finding him, and it is my opinion that 
 every poor Russian in Boston ought to do the same." 
 
 He looked furtively from face to face in the group, to 
 observe the effect of his words. Most of them stared at the 
 floor. 
 
 "Strobel was a good man," said one, after a long pause; 
 "but what could any of us do?" 
 
 "Do?" repeated the tailor, and his indignant reply died 
 
90 STRANGE EXIT OF PO UBALO V. 
 
 on his lips as he remembered with sudden distinctness the 
 fiasco of the previous night. "We could at least watch 
 Poubalov, and I, for one, intend to do so. I cannot sit, and 
 cut, and sew, and think, while he is in this country and 
 my friend is in his power." 
 
 "Nicholas Litizki," said one who had not spoken previ- 
 ously, " if I were in your place, I would let the Strobel 
 case take care of itself." 
 
 The tailor glanced at the speaker. 
 
 "You speak as if we were still in Russia, "he said, 
 "and you had authority to command me." 
 
 *' You will do as you please," returned the other; "but 
 if I were in your place, I should keep quiet." 
 
 "Listen then, all of you," exclaimed Litizki, with 
 ergy ; "I shall not keep quiet. I shall pursue Poubalov. I 
 shall do everything possible to effect the rescue of Ivan 
 Strobel, and if I have to sacrifice my business and e\< 
 thing, and every chance I have in the world, I shall do 
 it." 
 
 The door of the little workshop opened, and Alexander 
 Poubalov stepped in. 
 
 "Good-day, to you, Nicholas Litizki, and friends, "he 
 said with easy familiarity. "When one is in a fort 
 land, and has need of something, he will naturally api ly 
 to a fellow-countryman, will he not?" 
 
 He looked around at the group, as if expecting a general 
 assent. The men looked darkly at him and were silent. If 
 all had not seen him in Russia, they knew who he v 
 and if there had been any doubt, they would have but 
 needed to glance at Litizki to see that he was facing his 
 arch-enemy. 
 
 The tailor rose from his bench, and his sallow face was 
 deathly pale. 
 
 "Alexander Poubalov," he said determinedly, "this is 
 no place for you. You hear no words of welcome 
 
 "Gently, Litizki, my friend, gently," interposed the 
 spy; "I call simply on business. I want clothes. "Will you 
 make them for me?" 
 
STRANGE EXIT OF PO UBAL V. 91 
 
 "Not for all the wealth of the czar!" returned the tailor, 
 fiercely. 
 
 "Then we will waste no time discussing material and 
 prices. Good-day again, " and Poubalov walked grandly 
 out. 
 
 The group exchanged inquiring glances in silence for a 
 moment, and then Litizki exclaimed: 
 
 "You see, friends! you see! I was not mistaken in the 
 man, and he is the same here as in Russia the spy who 
 goes everywhere and does nothing. I don't need to tell 
 you that he wanted no garments. He came here for a pur- 
 pose, and he accomplished it. It is now my turn, Vargo- 
 vitch, to utter a warning. Poubalov's eyes are upon you, 
 and if I were you Bah!" 
 
 Litizki had begun to imitate the serious tone in which 
 his friend had warned him to let the Strobel case alone, 
 but it seemed superfluous to suggest a warning to Vargo- 
 vitch after he had himself seen the spy. 
 
 "Yes, I understand, " said Vargovitch, "and I simply 
 repeat that you'd better keep out of the Strobel case." 
 
 "Vargovitch," cried Litizki, "you do not talk like a 
 loyal Russian. Is it you who would stand by and let this 
 spy work his will among us?" 
 
 "1 have no more love for Poubalov and his work than 
 you have, Litizki," replied Vargovitch. "May there not be 
 reasons for my counsel reasons that you do not under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Litizki peered at the speaker silently and resumed his 
 work. Vargovitch left the room and shortly afterward 
 the other visitors dispersed. 
 
 "I would do what Vargovitch says, Nicholas Litizki," 
 remarked one of the tailor's assistants. 
 
 Litizki worked away as if he had not heard, and his 
 thoughts were not pleasant or hopeful. It had seemed to 
 him as if every compatriot of his in the city would need 
 but the suggestion to unite in an effort to outwit Pouba- 
 lov aod rescue Strobel. Litizki could not understand it, 
 
92 STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 
 
 and he was disappointed. It was while he was meditating 
 thus that Clara and Louise called. 
 
 The little tailor almost blushed as he left his bench and 
 went to meet them. 
 
 "I should almost say," he began hurriedly, after ho 
 had awkwardly acknowledged their greetings, "that 
 ought not to come here. Are you aware that Poubalnv 
 may be, probably is, watching your every stop? That 
 man has the eyes of a thousand, and if it wore possible to 
 throw him off the track it would be best to do so. But 
 it is impossible. If you did not come here, he woud find 
 out that you know me, and he would infer the rest." 
 
 "You seem troubled, Mr. Litizki," said 'Jlara, kindly; 
 "have you, too, given up Mr. Strobel?" 
 
 "I? Never! It is because I do not give him up that 
 well, yes, I am troubled. Why disguise the fact that Pou- 
 balov is a powerful enemy? I am not a coward, Miss Hil- 
 man; my life is not worth enough to me to make n:<> 
 care for it, but I fear that man's power will be too great 
 for the friends of Ivan Strobel." 
 
 "You have seen him, then?" 
 
 "Yes, I " Litizki averted his eyes and continued: "He 
 has been here, to-day, not more than half an hour ago." 
 
 "I hope, Mr. Litizki," said Clara, "that you will not put 
 yourself in his power. If you feel that it is dangerous to 
 help in the search for Mr. Strobel, you must not do it." 
 
 "Dangerous? It is too late to think of that, if I cared 
 about it. That man has possession of Mr. Strobel, and will 
 keep him until he has accomplished some purpose. Stro- 
 bel will not yield. " Litizki paused and looked gloomily 
 away. "You see, it is a question of how to circumvent 
 Poubalov," he added. 
 
 "I am afraid, Mr. Litizki, that your loyalty to yonr 
 friend will bring misfortune upon you. I should be very 
 sorry for that." 
 
 "Ah, Miss Hilman," muttered the tailor, and a sad 
 wistfulness lingered briefly in his eyes, "you are worthy 
 
STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 93 
 
 Clara was deeply touched, and her voice trembled as 
 she said : 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Litizki. I hope to be worthy of your 
 kind thoughts. I may learn something to-night that will 
 put another light on the case. Is it too much to ask you 
 to call at my uncle's house some time during the even- 
 ing:"' 
 
 "Not if you lived in Siberia, Miss Hilman. Where is it, 
 and when shall I come?" 
 
 Clara gave him the address and left him, begging him 
 to come early. When they were on the way home, Louise 
 said : 
 
 "I am more and more amazed at your method every 
 day, dear. Have I not been good to listen, and ask no 
 questions and volunteer no advice?" 
 
 "Too good, dear. I should often want advice, and ask it, 
 but that I fear hurting you by not following it. I must go 
 my own way." 
 
 "Of course you must, but I was just leading up to this 
 question: What in the world do you want of Mr. Litizki 
 this evening?" 
 
 "I hardly know myself, dear; but if that, 'second 
 driver 1 calls, I hope to make Mr. Litizki useful. Will that 
 do?" 
 
 It had to, for Clara fell to thinking, and her cousin saw 
 that questions would be irritating. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke sent word from his office that he should 
 not come to dinner, and- he had not arrived when the ser- 
 vant announced a caller, and handed a card to Clara. It 
 was Poubalov. 
 
 "I suppose," said Clara, showing not the least surprise, 
 "that I'd better see him alone. Will you wait here" (they 
 were in the dining-room), "in case I should want you?" 
 
 Poubalov smiled and his face looked almost attractive 
 as he rose and bowed when Clara entered the drawing- 
 room. At that instant Clara felt that but for his self-con- 
 fessed methods of deceit, she could have trusted him, and 
 
94 STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 
 
 this in spite of the black pictures that Liti'/ki and Paul 
 Palovna had drawn of him. 
 
 "I am delighted, Miss Hilman," he said, "to observe 
 that you endure your sorrow and your remarkable work 
 so well." 
 
 "I am told that nothing escapes you," replied Clara, 
 "and so I suppose you know all about my search for the 
 driver of Mr. Strobel's second carriage." 
 
 "Miss Clara," said a servant at the hall door, "a man 
 who says his name is Billings wishes to see you." 
 
 "Show him into the library, please, " answered Clara, 
 11 ion to Poubalov "Will you pardon me? This is the 
 man of whom I was speaking, and I must see him." 
 
 "Pray do, " responded the Russian; "my message can 
 well wait until he haa gone." 
 
 Clara at once crossed the hall into the library. The min- 
 ute she was out of the room Poubalov went to the door 
 and cautiously opened it a little way. He closed it quickly 
 and reflected. Clara had loft the door from the hall in th. 
 library wide open, and the street door would be easily 
 in view to anybody in the library. 
 
 Poubalov went from one to another of the several win- 
 dows and looked out. From one at the side of the room ho 
 saw a few yards of turf bounded by a low hedge, and be- 
 yond that the park-like grounds surrounding a l.-i 
 dwelling. This window was partially <]). n. 
 
 Tho spy looked once more toward the hall door. Ho had 
 irivon his hat and stio.k to the servant, and thoy hud 1 
 placed somewhere in the hall. fl<- shruirijod his shoulders, 
 pushed the window furlhor up and stopped out. 
 
 A momenl lalor, Louise, who was idly ira/iuL r out of iho 
 dining-room window, was considerably startled to see a 
 man, whom in the gathering dusk she could not re< 
 nize, leap over the hedge into the adjoining grounds, and 
 disappear behind the shrubbery. 
 
LITIZKI BEEAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 
 
 In the brief interval that elasped between tha time 
 when she turned from Poubalov and the moment she en- 
 tered the library, Clara reflected that while her loyal 
 heart would rebel at the story to be told by Billings, she 
 must hear him patiently, and not permit her distrust of 
 him to manifest itself. One can think to good purpose in 
 even so short a time as it takes to walk across a room. 
 Clara was fully resolved to be guided by her reason alone 
 in dealing with Billings, and not to permit herself to 
 doubt his story if it should prove, as was probable, that 
 what he had to say tended to corroborate the detective's 
 theory. 
 
 Yet, when she looked at him, all her woman's intuition 
 rebelled. She saw a man perhaps twenty-five years old, 
 with nothing whatever remarkable in his appearance; but 
 in his eyes and attitude there seemed to be a conscious- 
 ness of antagonism, as if he expected to be doubted, 
 sharply cross-examined, and as if he were determined 
 that nothing should shake his story. His sullen, dogged 
 expression was a help to Clara in conquering her immedi- 
 ate aversion to him, and she began the critical interview 
 with a move that surprised and embarrassed him. 
 
 He was sitting, holding his hat on his knees, at the 
 farther side of the room. Clara crossed directly to him 
 with outstretched hand, saying: 
 
 "I am Miss Hilman. You are Mr. Billings, I believe. I 
 cannot tell you how glad I am to see you. Mr. Bowker 
 may have told you how I hunted the city over to find you. 
 Sit down, please; let me take your hat." 
 
 Billings had risen awkwardly as he saw that she was 
 
96 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 
 
 corning toward him, and, quite unaware of how she man- 
 aged it, he found that she had taken one of his hands in 
 her own. In his confusion he let his hat fall, picked it up 
 hastily, and at last sat down again, feeling still the warm 
 clasp of Clara's hand, while with bewildered eyes he saw 
 this self-possessed, queenly young woman place his bat- 
 tered hat upon a table and draw up a chair opposite to 
 him. He had not said a word. If he had come with any 
 set phrases for beginning his story, they were completely 
 driven from his mind. 
 
 Clara looked at him for a moment, and he averted his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Were you acquainted with Mr. Strobel?" she asked 
 presently, speaking in low tones that needed no art to 
 color with the sadness that weighed upon her heart. 
 
 "No'm, I wasn't," replied Billings, with a quick glance 
 at her. 
 
 "lam sorry for that,' 7 said Clara, "and yet it shows 
 how kind you are to come here and toll me about this mat- 
 ter. I suppose you had to come a long way. " 
 
 "I live in the North End," said Billings, uneasily. 
 "Bowker told me to come. " 
 
 "The North End is a long way off," she declared, "and 
 I thank you just the same. I suppose you may have told 
 Mr. Bowker so carefully about this that you are tired of 
 the matter, but I should like very much to hear you my- 
 self. Do you mind telling me just what you told him?" 
 
 "That's what I come for, "and Billings seemed to be 
 considerably relieved. "I was driving down Park Street," 
 he began, "when I saw that the coupe just in front of mo 
 had got into trouble. I went slow because people got 
 around thick, and, besides, I wanted to see what was thn 
 matter. As I was looking, the man in the coupe clumb 
 out and asked me was I engaged. 1 told him no, and ho 
 got in. He seemed to be in a hurry." 
 
 "One moment, "interposed Clara, gently. The narration 
 struck her as distinctly parrot-like, and if it were some- 
 thing that he had learned to recite, she preferred tc break 
 
LIT1ZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 97 
 
 the thread of his story before he had come to the impor- 
 tant part, rather than give him the advantage of estab- 
 lishing a statement in smooth order. If he were telling the 
 truth, no manner of interruption could prevent him from 
 eventually making himself understood ; if he were lying, 
 she must involve him in contradictions. So, without pre- 
 meditation, Clara said : 
 
 ",You are going just a little too fast for me, and I hope 
 you will forgive me. Every detail, you know, seems im- 
 portant to me. Where had you been that morning, Mr. 
 Billings?" 
 
 "Been to a funeral, miss," he answered promptly. 
 "Yes, so I understood; but where?" 
 "Out to Mount Auburn." 
 
 "That is quite a long way from Park Street, isn't it? It 
 must be four miles." 
 
 "Yes'm, 'bout that." 
 
 "It was about eleven o'clock, or a little after, when Mr. 
 Strobel's coupe broke down, and you had been to Mount 
 Auburn and had just got back. I see. Where did you leave 
 your passengers, the persons you took to the funeral, I 
 mean?" 
 
 With a glance of sullen resentment Billings answered : 
 
 "At their house." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Billings," and Clara smiled as if she were not 
 in the least annoyed, "but that isn't telling where. I 
 didn't ask for the street and number. Why should I? It 
 was in Cambridge, was it not?" 
 
 After the slightest perceptible hesitation, Billings an- 
 swered : 
 
 "No; 'twas in the West End." 
 
 "Ah, then you had come over Beacon Hill on your 
 way somewhere. Where were you going, Mr. Billings?" 
 
 As Billings hesitated more noticeably, she continued: 
 
 "Do you have some regular place where you wait for 
 passengers, or do you drive about picking them up where 
 you find them?" 
 
98 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 
 
 "1 was going to the Old Colony Depot," said Billings, 
 huskily. 
 
 "I see. Is it customary, Mr. Billings, for cabmen to leave 
 the curtains of their carriages closely drawn after they 
 leave a funeral party?" 
 
 "No, 'tain't, not long, but you wouldn't have me stop in 
 front of the house to pull 'em up, would you?" 
 
 "Certainly not. You did quite right, doubtless. When 
 did you first see the coupe?" 
 
 "At the corner of Beacon. It turned into Park Street 
 just ahead of me." 
 
 "Where did Mr. Strobel tell you to take him?" 
 
 "To Dr. Merrill's church, Parker Avenue, Roxbury." 
 
 Billings didn't know it, but his examiner came very 
 near to breaking down at this point. There was nothing 
 as yet to show that the driver was not telling the truth, 
 although Clara had prepared a trap for him that she in- 
 tended to spring a little later, and the mention of the 
 church where she was to be married brought up such a 
 flood of emotions that it seemed as if she would choke. 
 Then, too, whether Billings were practicing deceit or not, 
 it was certain that for this moment at least she was fol- 
 lowing her lover's journey correctly, and she had arrived 
 at that critical point where the change in his intentions, 
 or in his power to act, occurred. So, it was in a very 
 faint voice that she told Billings to go on. He immedi- 
 ately resumed his parrot-like narration : 
 
 "He seemed to be in a hurry, for he spoke quick. I 
 closed the door on him, and got into my seat as fast as I 
 could and whipped up. 1 wanted to get along myself, you 
 see, 'cause it was quite a long drive, and I had to get back 
 to the depot." 
 
 This last sentence sounded like a fresh thought inter- 
 jected on the spur of the moment, for Billings spoke it 
 slower than the rest, and glanced inquiringly at Clara, as 
 if to see how she took it. She noticed the difference, but 
 simply nodded, and Billings went on. 
 
 "Nothing happened till we got to Elliot Street. Then 
 
LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 99 
 
 the gentleman opened the door and hollered 'Driver!' I 
 pulled up a bit and turned round to see what he -wanted. 
 'Driver!' says he, 'I've changed my mind. Take me to 
 the Park Square Station.' 'All right, sir,' says I, and he 
 closed the door again. So I druv 'im to the station, and he 
 got out and give me a dollar and went inside, and that's 
 all there is to it." 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Billings," said 
 Clara; "I suppose you went directly to the Old Colony 
 Depot after that?" 
 
 "Yei'm. That's where I went." 
 
 He rose as if there could be nothing more for him to say, 
 but Clara was not done with him. 
 
 "Just one more question, " she said; "sit down again, 
 please. Did you see Mr. Strobel speak or bow to anybody 
 at the station?" 
 
 "No'm. There wasn't many people about, and he hur- 
 ried inside like as if his train was just going." 
 
 "Was there anybody there whom you knew?" 
 
 "Yes'm, and you can ask him. A feller named O'Brien, 
 who works there, was just at the door as we drew up, 
 and he says 'Hello' to me. He'll tell you he saw me land 
 my passenger tnere, for he came forward, thinking to 
 get the gentleman's bag to carry." 
 
 "Mr. O'Brien may have noticed where Mr. Strobel went 
 after going into the station, " mused Clara. 
 
 "Yes'm, he might. You might ask him." 
 
 "Thank you; 1 presume I shall. Now, Mr. Billings, I 
 want to show you in some way that I appreciate your 
 kindness in coming here to tell me this. I have had to 
 drive about a great deal for two days, and shall have to 
 use a carriage to-morrow. I shall be glad to employ you. " 
 
 Billings flushed and shifted about uneasily 
 
 "I can't, miss," he muttered. 
 
 "Why not, Mr. Billings?" 
 
 The driver stole a glance at her earnest face, and saw 
 nothing there but sad surprise. 
 
100 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 
 
 "Why not?" Clara gave the man no help by suggesting 
 a possible excuse. 
 
 "My carriage is engaged that is," he blurted, "I 
 haven't got any carriage that would be fit for you." 
 
 "What is the matter with the one in which you took Mr. 
 Strobel?" 
 
 "It got smashed up and is being repaired. You see," and 
 he mumbled his words so that they were almost unintel- 
 ligible, "the same day a party of toughs hired it; they 
 were kind o' swell toughs, and they got on a racket, and 
 the carriage was damaged. 'Tain't fit to use." 
 
 "Mr. Billings!" Clara spoke with a sudden energy that 
 startled the driver, "was Mr. Strobel in the carriage when 
 it was damaged?" 
 
 "No'm, no'm, he wan't," stammered Billings. 
 
 The explanation suggested an entirely new thought to 
 Clara Before her mental vision there came swiftly a pic- 
 ture of her lover struggling with somebody might it not 
 be Poubalov? in the carriage itself. She seemed to see aJ 
 violent conflict in which seats and fixtures gave way as j 
 men's bodies fell heavily. And Ivan was overpowered, his 
 enemies triumphed, he was motionless, unconscious 
 perhaps fatally injured, and they had hidden him away 
 somewhere lest their crime come to the light ! 
 
 This was wholly unlike the vision she had seen on the j 
 evening of what should have been her wedding clay ; it ; 
 had none of the aspects of an hallucination ; for as the 
 alarming details shaped themselves in her thoughts, sho 
 was conscious that Billings sat before her, looking fright- 
 ened, and that he rose again to go. In this instance she 
 was but following the suggestions brought out by her in- 
 quiry to what might be their logical, natural conclusion, j 
 
 "I am sorry you cannot drive me to-morrow," she said, 
 recovering and withdrawing her eyes, which had been 
 fixed in a strained stare upon Billings for a very brief pe- 
 riod. "Before you go, tell me the names and addresses of 
 the persons you took to the funeral, please. 
 
LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 101 
 
 "I don't remember, "replied Billings, uneasily. "I shall 
 have to look up my book; 'tain't here." 
 
 "Will you do so?" asked Clara, pleasantly, convinced 
 now that the man was lying; "and send the names to me, 
 please. Will you do that to-night?" 
 
 "Yes'm," replied Billings reaching for his hat. 
 "And what is your address?" 
 
 Billings told her, and she laid her hand gently on his 
 arm. An idea that had occurred to her vaguely when his 
 name was announced as she stood before Poubalov, now 
 recurred to her in the shape of a plan. She would have 
 Billings confront the Russian, and watch their faces nar- 
 rowly for some sign of recognition, or alarm. 
 
 "Will you come into the next room a moment?" she said, 
 "I have something to show you." 
 
 There seemed to be a shade of suspicion in his eyes, but 
 he made no objection, and Clara conducted him to the 
 drawing-room. It was dark. With a premonition of disap- 
 pointment, Clara found a match on the mantel and lit the 
 gas. After a hasty glance around she opened the door to 
 the dining-room. 
 
 "Lou!" she whispered eagerly, "have you seen Mr. 
 Poubalov?" 
 
 "No," replied Louise, coming forward and entering the 
 parlor; "has he gone? Then it must have been he!" 
 
 "Who? What have you seen? Wait, come into the hall. 
 Will you sit down just a minute longer, Mr, Billings? I 
 shall be but a moment." 
 
 Billings complied, and the young ladies passed quickly 
 into the hall, where the first thing that Clara saw were 
 Poubalov's hat and stick lying upon a table. She turned in 
 the utmost wonderment upon her cousin. 
 
 "All I can say, "said Louise, "is that I saw a man 
 leap over the hedge into Mr. Jordan's grounds a short 
 time after you went into the drawing-room to meet 
 Poubalov. I couldn't tell who it was, couldn't even see 
 that he had no hat on. I feared he might be a tramp, 
 
102 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 
 
 but thought then that he had been frightened away, and 
 that there was no danger." 
 
 "He was frightened away?" murmured Clara, fcclinir 
 her blood run cold; "he dared not face his man Billings!' 
 
 "I supposed," continued Louise, in agitation," that Pou- 
 balov was with you. I heard no voices, but thought per- 
 haps that you had gone into the library with him, for a 
 door closed once." 
 
 "Yes, when Billings came. Oh! if Litizki were only 
 here!" 
 
 "Why! what could he do?" 
 
 "I would have him follow Billings. Oh, I could cry! it 
 is the one opportunity for solving this mystery that wo 
 have found, and now we are going to lose it!" 
 
 Louise was greatly distressed. 
 
 "Isn't there some way that you can detain Billings, " she 
 suggested, "until Litizki arrives?" 
 
 "No. He's been trying to get away for several minutes. 
 It is just possible that Litizki may be near. I'll go out 
 with Billings, as if to call at a neighbor's, and if I see Li- 
 tizki will put him on the track at once." 
 
 She wont upstairs for her hat, lingering over the prep- 
 aration in order to give Lilizki all possible opportunity to 
 keep his appointment, and when she came down again Bil- 
 lings was in the hall. 
 
 "I can't wait no longer," he said gruffly. 
 
 "Very well," replied Clara; "I thank you again for call- 
 ing, 1 am going as far as the next house, and you can es 
 cort me." 
 
 Billings scowled with disagreeable surprise. At the gate 
 he waited to see which way she would turn. 
 
 "I'm not going that way, miss," he said, and started off 
 at a rapid pace in the opposite direction. 
 
WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 103 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 
 
 Clara retired before her uncle returned, and when at 
 last he appeared, it was only to pack his bag and hurry 
 away to catch the midnight train for New York. 
 
 "I may be gone a week," he told Louise, "and I may 
 get back in two days. Telegraph me at the Travelers' Ho- 
 tel, if I am wanted for anything." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke's departure was a great disappointment 
 to Clara. She reproached herself that she had not made an 
 opportunity to tell him about her conversation with Pou- 
 balov and Litizki ; it was his right to know everything 
 that could possibly bear upon the case, and could she have 
 told him, she would have besought him to advise her. 
 
 She was now in a bewildering maze of doubts and uncer- 
 tainties. Billings had lied to her ; she was almost as sure 
 of that as if she had already proved it; but at what part 
 of his story the falsehood began she could only guess. 
 There was no doubt that Ivan had taken Billings' carriage. 
 Did he give the driver orders to go to the Park Square 
 Station? Did Billings drive to the station? The latter 
 question she could answer with some degree of satisfac- 
 tion by inquiry of the man O'Brien, and that seemed the 
 first thing to do; but what then? 
 
 Poubalov had called to say something, and had not only 
 gone away without saying it, but had gone in such wise 
 as to leave no reasonable doubt that he dared not face the 
 driver of the closed carriage. Was it not an inevitable in- 
 ference that Billings had been hired by the .Russian? It 
 was with evident difficulty that Billings had stumbled 
 through the story as it was. Would not Poubalov, recog- 
 nizing the driver's mental inferiority, have argued that if 
 
104 WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKL 
 
 they were suddenly brought face to face, Billings would 
 have betrayed their complicity by at least a start? 
 
 And Litizki, what had become of him? It was not to bo 
 thought of that he had abandoned the case. Poubalov had 
 called at his shop during the day, unquestionably with 
 some ulterior design. Could anything be more reasonable 
 than to suppose that in some way the spy had frustrated 
 the attempt of Litizki to help her? 
 
 The more she pondered the various puzzling aspects of 
 the case, the more everything seemed to center upon Pou- 
 balov, and she shuddered with apprehension as Litizkfs 
 characterization of him recurred to her. He was, indeed, a 
 terrible enemy. 
 
 Having in mind only the known facts in the case, and 
 disregarding utterly all inferences and conjectures, she 
 tried to reason along various lines, in the hope that thus 
 a theory might be set up which should command sufficient 
 respect to justify a new departure in her search. She be- 
 gan with the fact that Ivan had made every preparation 
 for marriage and there a new thought presented itself. 
 He had surrendered his room ; he must, therefore, have 
 packed his belongings; had they been disturbed? This 
 might be a matter of infinite significance, and one that she 
 would attend to without delay. 
 
 "Louise," she said (they were at the breakfast table and 
 her cousin was lingering over her coffee while Clara was 
 absorbed in thought), "will you go downtown with me 
 again to-day?" 
 
 "Of course, dear," replied Louise; "I will be ready in 
 ten minutes." 
 
 Louise was relieved at Clara's suggestions. She had 
 been hopelessly wondering what Clara could find to do 
 next, and she dreaded for her cousin's health should there 
 prove to be no active work upon which she could concen- 
 trate her faculties. She left the room to prepare for the 
 day's jaunt, and Clara resumed her thinking. 
 
 Every preparation for marriage, and a start actually 
 made for the church. Then an accident that s n mebody had 
 
WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 105 
 
 prepared. Who? There must have been someobdy who 
 had a great object to attain in preventing the marriage, or 
 
 in getting possession of Ivan. Suppose it were Poubalov, 
 what then? With the insight he himself had given her 
 into his character, would he not do everything possible to 
 throw her off the right track? If he had abducted Ivan, 
 would he hesitate to abduct Litizki if he found that the lit- 
 tle tailor was in his way? 
 
 It was vain to speculate for a reason for Poubalov's 
 main action; that must lie in his capacity as a paid spy 
 of a government with which Ivan, apparently, had been at 
 one time in conflict. His subsequent actions, so far as 
 she knew them, were all explainable on the theory that he 
 had had to do with Ivan's disappearance. 
 
 And so her thoughts revolved around Poublaov, finding 
 at every turn a trace of obliquity that was wholly in con- 
 sonance with his character and his confessed methods. 
 
 Clara felt that her reasoning was bringing her to no def- 
 inite end, although her brain teemed with courses of ac- 
 tion that might have been possible could she have com- 
 manded the services of a corps of shrewd, faithful detect- 
 ives. It is generally so with persons who have a great 
 task to accomplish; they find themselves with more plans 
 than resources, more brains than hands. Clara had just 
 come to the sensible conclusion that, compelled to work 
 substantially alone, she would undertake exactly one 
 thing at a time, and, having chosen a line of inquiry, 
 would follow it uninterruptedly to the end, when a serv- 
 ant announced that a man had called to see her. 
 
 "I couldn't catch his name, Miss Clara," said the serv- 
 ant, "but I'm afraid he's a beggar, he looks so forlorn 
 and seedy." 
 
 Clara knew who it was and she sprang from her chair 
 with more eagerness and animation than she had mani- 
 fested at any time since the disastrous wedding day. She 
 fairly ran into the drawing-room, both her hands ex- 
 tended, her face radiant with smiles, and completely over- 
 whelmed poor Litizki with the warmth of her greeting. 
 
206 WHAT BECAME OF L1TIZKI. 
 
 "I was so afraid something dreadful had happened to 
 you!" she exclaimed, "but I knew that you had not de- 
 serted me." 
 
 "Deserted you?" said Litizki huskily; "no, but I was 
 afraid you would think so. I didn't know what Poubalov 
 might have told you, and unless you thoroughly under- 
 stand that man, that fiend, Miss Hilinan, he is likely to 
 make you believe anything." 
 
 "Then you know that he had been here! You must have 
 recognized his hat in the hall." 
 
 "I saw it there and his stick, too, but I knew before 
 then that he had been here. I came to tell you." 
 
 Litizki paused, the look of grateful relief that had over- 
 spread his features at first giving way to his customary 
 depressed expression, and he fell into his habit of speak- 
 ing with averted e3 r es, or with but occasional furtive 
 glances at the person addressed. 
 
 "Do tell me, "said Clara; "I have been very anxious 
 about you." 
 
 Litizki thought a moment, and then asked : 
 
 "May I see Poubalov's cane?" 
 
 "To be sure," replied Clara, and she brought it to him 
 from the hall. 
 
 Litizki took it, looked it over, felt along the top, and 
 suddenly drew forth the handle, from which a gloaming 
 blade depended. Clara started back with a low exclama- 
 tion of alarm* Litizki touched the edge of the blade with 
 his thumb, as a man tests a razor. 
 
 "Alexander Poubalov, "he murmured gloomily, "held 
 this over my heart once, not so long ago." 
 
 He thrust it back into its sheath, where it came to rest 
 with an angry click, and handed the cane to Clara. 
 
 "That is the kind of man he is, Miss Hilman," he said; 
 "I thought you might like to know." 
 
 If he had wished to impress Clara with the horribie 
 gravity of the situation, with its frightful possibilities, 
 he succeeded beyond measure. She held the cane, feeling 
 that it epitomized the spy's career, and a dreadful faint- 
 
WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 107 
 
 ness depressed her which she at length overcame with 
 the utmost difficulty. Having returned the concealed 
 weapon to the hall, she sank into a chair and asked Li- 
 tizki to tell her what had happened to him during the pre, 
 vious evening. 
 
 "You asked me to call early, " he hegan, "and I set 
 out to do so. Without going into unnecessary detail, I will 
 say that I came up the street that ends nearly in front of 
 this house, a little after seven o'clock. The exact time 
 doesn't matter, for you will know as nearly as you need 
 to when I tell you that just as I was about to cross the 
 road I saw Poubalov in front of me. He had come by an- 
 other route. I wasn't surprised, for the man seems to 
 read one's thoughts, and it was as if he had known that I 
 was coming, and had determined to prevent me. 
 
 "I doubted whether it would be wise to call as long as 
 he was in the neighborhood, but all doubts were set at 
 rest when he himself went up the steps and rang. Of 
 course it would have been the height of folly for me to 
 enter the house then." 
 
 "You had the right to," interrupted Clara; "I had 
 asked you to come, and 1 needed you very much." 
 
 Litizki looked so miserable that Clara hastened to add: 
 
 "I didn't mean to reprove or find fault, Mr. Litizki. I 
 forgot for the moment everything except that eventually, 
 after Poubalov had run away, I wished you were at 
 hand!" 
 
 "I hope I made no mistake, Miss Hilman," said Litizki; 
 "at all events I could see no other course at the time than 
 to do what I did." 
 
 "I have no doubt you were right. Go on, please." 
 
 "T determined to wait until Poubalov went away. If I 
 had been familiar with the house, I might have found 
 my way to the back door and sent word to you by a serv- 
 ant, but I dared not venture, for I knew not from what 
 window Poubalov might be looking. The same reason in- 
 duced me to leave the street, which is clearly in view from 
 some windows, and, moreover, I did not care to risk 
 
108 WHAT BECAME OF LUl/.k L 
 
 questions from anybody as to wny I was loitering about. 
 So I slipped into the adjoining grounds, whore there is a 
 lot of shrubbery, and crawled under a tree whose 
 branches hung low. 
 
 "From where I lay I could see whether anybody rn- 
 tered or left the house by the front door and I also B 
 all the windows on one side. I had been there less than 
 a minute when somebody went up the steps and was ad- 
 mitted. I could not see who it was, for the evening was 
 cloudy and it grew dark very quickly." 
 
 "It was a man named Billings," said Clara; "he drove 
 the closed carriage which took Mr. Strobel from Park 
 Street." 
 
 "Indeed! I wish I had known it. Well, events hap- 
 pened pretty quickly just then, for it seemed to me that 
 less than another minute had passed when Poubalov ap- 
 peared at one of the windows on the side of the hoi 
 He raised it, stepped out, and leaped over the ln-d.^o, not 
 five yards from where I lay. Ho passed so close to me that 
 I could have reached out from under the tree and tripprd 
 him up! I lay very- still, wondering what his action could 
 mean, for as you must know, he was bareheaded. If I had 
 dreamed then of going to the house, I could not have done 
 so, for he crouched down by the hedge near the street, 
 and I could see that he had his eyes on the door and that 
 he was waiting. I then determined to follow him wherever 
 he should go, foi of course he meditated villainy. I may 
 have prevented him in that Oh! I don't know!" 
 
 Litizki fairly groaned these words, and Clara was about 
 to utter an anxious inquiry, when he resumed : 
 
 "Don't let me disturb you, Miss Hilman; I will tell the 
 whole wretched story. How long we lay there I don't 
 know, but you must, for at last you, 1 think it was you, 
 came out of the house and walked down to the gate to 
 say good-night to somebody who left you there Billings I 
 suppose and walked away in a direction opposite to us. 
 You, was it you? Yes, you waited a moment, and re- 
 turned to the house, whereupon Poubalov immediately 
 
WHAT BECAME OF L1T1ZKI. 109 
 
 got up, leaped over the hedge, darted across the road as 
 noiselessly as if he were a cat, and disappeared. 
 
 "I followed as well as I could, and, as luck would have 
 it, I soon overtook him, for he was strolling along slowly, 
 as unconcerned as if he owned a house near by and were 
 out for a breath of fresh air. He rambled on until he came 
 to Washington Street, when he stopped at the curb and 
 looked idly about for several seconds. There were many 
 people about, and his bareheaded condition attracted at- 
 tention. All the shops were open, and suddenly he 
 darted into one of them. It was not a hat store, but when 
 he came out, which was almost immediately, he had a hat 
 on. I suppose he bought it for an extravagant sum off the 
 head of some stranger It would be like him. 
 
 "He idled about the neighborhood for as much as an 
 hour, Miss Hilman, and I did all that I could think of to 
 keep him in view without exposing myself. The man is a 
 fiend with a million eyes! But wait, I'll tell you. At last 
 he moved along, and, of course, I followed faithfully, noting 
 every turn, that I might be able to go again by the same 
 way if possible, or at least to the same place, wherever 
 that might be. For in spite of my care I don't know what 
 was his destination, if he had any. It is for this reason 
 that I say I may have prevented him from some fresh 
 villainy. 
 
 "At last, in a street to which I could readily return, he 
 paused. I was across the way from him, and I slipped into 
 a doorway, where I was wholly in the dark. I could seo 
 him, though, and for a long, long time he paced slowly 
 back and forth, never once speaking to anybody, or look- 
 ing about, or getting out of my sight. It didn't matter to 
 me. I would have stayed on till I starved in my tracks, 
 but eventually he crossed the street directly toward me. 
 He could not see me, of that I am certain, but of course 
 he had seen me and I am a helpless, good-for-nothing 
 fool, Miss Hilman!" 
 
 "Why say that?" asked Clara kindly. 
 
 "Because he camo straight into the doorway, put his 
 
110 WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 
 
 hand lightly on my shoulder and said in that deep, scorn- 
 ful voice of his : 'It is enough, Nicholas Litizki. Let us 
 now go home,' and he laughed disagreeably." 
 
 Litizki stared aside with an expression of utter self- 
 contempt. 
 
 "I weakly said to myself tha^ it was a ruse to get rid of 
 me, and I followed again as ho walked briskly away. He 
 took a street car and went straight to his room in Bui- 
 finch Place. It was past midnight, and so I came this 
 morning, Miss Hilman. " 
 
A NEW DEPAUTUEE. HI 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A NEW DEPARTURE. 
 
 "What a hard and disagreeable experience, " exclaimed 
 Clara, "and so strange too! You have no occasion to re- 
 proach yourself, Mr. Litizki, with an} r neglect. You did 
 all that any man could do, I am sure, and it may not 
 prove to be unfortunate that Poubalov saw that you 
 were watching him." 
 
 "1 wish I could think so," responded the tailor, "and 
 it is wonderfully kind of you to be so patient with my 
 failure. Isn't there something that I can do now? lean do 
 no work until this matter is settled, and it is torture to 
 remain idle." 
 
 "I know how true that is," sighed Clara; "yes, there is 
 something I think you can do. If Poubalov had not called 
 last evening, and so changed all our plans, I should have 
 asked you to follow Billings when he left the house. I 
 have little faith in him, Mr. Litizki, and it seems to me 
 that on leaving here last night he must have gone directly 
 to report to his accomplice, or employer. Are you sure 
 that Poubalov spoke to nobody?" 
 
 "If he did, it was no more than a passing word. He 
 seemed to know no one." 
 
 Clara had to stop and think, for Litizki's story tended 
 to upset her theories concerning Poubalov 's exit and his 
 relations with Billings. Could it be possible, after all, that 
 Billings had not been employed by the spy, and that the 
 latter, therefore, had had nothing to do with Ivan's disap- 
 pearance? Perhaps Poubalov worked through still an- 
 other accomplice, and, suspecting possible treachery, had 
 been at the pains of secretly following Billings, to learn 
 whether he and the unknown other were faithful. 
 
A NEW DEPARTURE. 
 
 This seemed rather a wild supposition, for it would not 
 be like Poubalov to admit others into his 
 tions. 
 
 Had he followed Billings? There was no in 
 
 Clara's mind that this was what he started T in-n ho 
 
 leaped over the hedge and ran to the side of the road 
 posite to where Billings was walking. Had Poubalov 
 Billings in the darnkess, and, observing Liti/ki's i 
 purposely dodged hither and thither, to . 
 tailor? 
 
 From every question Clara turned more ; 
 before. It must be that she was on the wrong track, else 
 a reasonable answer could be found, a reasonable ex pi; 
 tion suggested for every act. Perhaps she was wr TU' in 
 obstinately connecting Poubalov with the first act in 
 tragedy, the disappearance of Ivan ; but if so, could Ins 
 conduct even then bo explained? 
 
 "Mr. Liti/ki, " said Clara, at length, "I wnnt to know 
 all that can possibly be learned about this man Billings. 
 He gave me his address. Will you undertake to look him 
 up? Unless ho is very closely in league with Poubul<>\ . he 
 will not know who you are, and for that matter it proba- 
 bly won't be necessary for you to meet him. Eventually 
 you might have to follow him somewhere, but at the start 
 you miu'ht learn a great deal from his neighbors.** 
 
 "I'll do it, Miss Hilman; but I promise yon no 
 every step I take will be dogged by Poubul- 
 
 "Well, never mind. You will be on you guard agai 
 him and yet, I do not want you to expose y r to 
 
 danger," and Clara shuddored as she thought of tho long 
 dagger concealed in Poubalov's cane. 
 
 "Bah!" returned Liti/ki, "I care nothing for the <! 
 ger. My only fear is that the villain will overran 
 in anything I may attempt. I am no match for him in skill 
 and cunning, Miss Hilman." 
 
 Litizki was woefully dejected. Never did man so long 
 to be possessed of genius, or even talent, and the ta 
 was painfully aware of his own deficiencies. 
 
A NEW DEPARTURE. 113 
 
 "You underestimate yourself," said Clara; "you see 
 that I Lave confidence in you, else I would not ask you to 
 undertake the investigation. Will you begin at once?" 
 
 "Gladly. You cannot imagine how much courage your 
 good words give me. If I dared to cherish a hope of any 
 kind, it would be that I should accomplish something 
 that would justify your good opinion." 
 
 "You have already done so, and will do more, have no 
 doubt of it! I am going downtown myself. Suppose you go 
 to the address Billings gave me, make such inquiries 
 there as seem advisable, and, if you see nothing to com- 
 mand your immediate attention, come and tell me what 
 you have found. I shall be at Mrs. White's. If you come 
 after I go, you will find some word from me as to where 
 to go next." 
 
 She gave him Billings' address, saw him to the door 
 with a cheering smile, and then turned to Louise, who 
 had been ready to start for several minutes. 
 
 "He had what was to him a dismal story to tell," said 
 Clara, "and I knew he would rather tell it to me alone." 
 
 "I supposed so," returned Louise, "and so I took pains 
 not to interrupt you. I wish I could think a quarter as 
 well as you do, dear. I don't feel as if I were the least 
 use." 
 
 "Don't be silly, Lou, " and Clara embraced her cousin 
 affectionately ; "if I could think as well as you imagine I 
 do, we should be out of the difficulty in a day. What do 
 3 r ou suppose I should do without you?" 
 
 Louise was profoundly convinced that Clara would do 
 exactly as she had been doing all along, but she didn't say 
 so. She would have sympathized acutely with Litizki's 
 self-abasement had she known how earnestly he had 
 striven to be of use, and how utterly he had seemed to 
 fail. 
 
 They went first to the Park Square Station, Clara, as 
 usual, deeply absorbed in studying the strange problems 
 that confronted her. The impression she had received 
 this morning that Poubalov might not have been associated 
 
H4 A N W DEPARTURE. 
 
 directly with Ivan's taking off, grew upon her. How read- 
 ily he had abandoned the suggestion of elopement! Aban- 
 don? he had ignored it utterly. Not once in her conve 
 tion with him had he put that forth as an explanation 
 worthy of investigation. Could it have been his subtle 
 purpose to interest her in a line of inquiry that should 
 lead directly away from that? A shiver passed over her 
 frame, and Louise inquired anxiously what was the mat- 
 ter? 
 
 "New theories keep occurring to me," responded Clara 
 gravely, "and each one is a shock worse than the one that 
 preceded it. Let me tell you this one. Suppose that Li//.io 
 White," Clara spoke with difficulty, every word seemingly 
 dragged forth by a violent effort, "suppose she wi-n- in 
 some way Poubalov's agent; I will not, cannot think that 
 Ivan went away with her, but might it not be possible 
 that this remarkable man, who has such mastery over or- 
 dinary minds, had made her an accomplice? Don't 
 see the cleverness of the plan? If Ivan was forced to go to 
 New York, Lizzie's departure for that city the same day 
 is immediately assumed by everybody to mean that they 
 eloped, and probably all in Boston who think of the mat- 
 ter at all, suppose that they have been married. Ivan may 
 be a prisoner in New York, and Lizzie may be under P< >u- 
 balov's pay, or influence, the latter more likely, to 
 not as his jailer, but as a mask for his presence there. 
 
 "Poub<\lov has some object to attain in keeping him 
 thus guarded, to torture some political s from him, 
 
 perhaps. Now what better could he do than divert suspi- 
 cion in my mind from Lizzie to those whom he rails Nihil- 
 ists, or even upon himself? He saw at first glance that I 
 would not tolerate the thought of an elopement as among 
 the possibilities, so he had need to disarm me of suspicion 
 in that direction. Has not everything he has done 1 
 done with a view to keeping me in Boston? What does lie 
 care how much poor Litizki dogs his steps, so long as the 
 victim of his intrigue and villainy is hundreds of miles 
 away? His one fear in Boston is that Billings, whom he 
 
A NEW DEPARTURE. 115 
 
 hired to help in the abduction, may confess *jmething. 
 Therefore he tried to dog Billings' steps last night, and 
 whether he succeeded I do not know." 
 
 Much of this was Greek to Louise, and she said so, add- 
 ing: "What I do understand is that you feel now as if it 
 would he necessary to go to New York." 
 
 " I think so. We will see." 
 
 1 'Clara," said Louise, "you will not think that 1 have 
 suspected Ivan of faithlessness, I am sure; but it has 
 seemed to me that unless he returned soon, you would 
 have to go to Lizzie White. You cannot leave any possible 
 explanation unsought. I could not conjecture that she 
 and Poubalov might be concerned together as you have, 
 but I did feel as if you ought to look her up." 
 
 "I am glad you think so," responded Clara, "for I was 
 afraid you would oppose my going." 
 
 At the station Clara readily found the Mr. O'Brien to 
 whom Billings had referred for corroboration of a part 
 of his story. 
 
 "Yes'm," he said in reply to her questions, "I know the 
 Billings you speak of. I saw him here last Monday. 
 Has he been up to anything crooked?" 
 
 "I don't know, said Clara; "it may help to settle that if 
 you will tell me what were the circumstances of his call 
 here." 
 
 O'Brien hesitated. 
 
 "I don't want to get tangled up in any police business, " 
 he declared; "Billings was said to be the man who drove 
 the gent that skipped on his wedding day early this 
 week." 
 
 "Yes," said Clara; "lam Miss Hilman, and 1 was to 
 be married to the gentleman." 
 
 "Sho!" exclaimed O'Brien, sympathetically, "that 
 must have been a pretty tough blow, " and he scratched 
 his head thoughtfully. 
 
 "My inquiry," continued Clara, "has nothing to do with 
 the police. They have abandoned the investigation, I be- 
 
116 A NEW DEPARTURE. 
 
 lieve. I am trying simply to satisfy myself, and surely 
 you won't refuse to help." 
 
 "No, I won't," replied O'Brien; "but what I can say 
 won't do you no good. This was how it was. I had to go 
 out to the front of the depot for something, and just as 
 I got there, Billings drove up a closed carriage. I thought 
 he nodded as if he wanted me, so 1 stepped forward. He 
 pulled up further on than where carriages generally stop, 
 and was in a place all by himself. I was the only one near. 
 'Hello,' says I, 'how long you been driving?' 'Mind your 
 own business, ' says he, and he whipped up and drove oft'. 
 While I was speaking to him a man had got out of the 
 carriage and gone into the depot. I didn't see him to know 
 him, didn't pay any attention to him, for he went 
 quickly, and I was wondering about Billings." 
 
 "He says you came forward to get his passenger's bag- 
 gage." 
 
 " 'Tain't so. That ain't my line of work." 
 "Didn't the passenger pay his fare?" 
 "Not there. He went straight into the depot." 
 "Why did you ask Billings that question?" 
 " 'Cause I didn't know he'd got into the cab business. 
 He used to be a porter." 
 
 Clara thanked O'Brien, said she might call again if any 
 other questions occurred to her, and the young ladies wont 
 on to Ashburton Place. Billings had lied, but it might 
 have been Ivan, nevertheless, who went into the station 
 from the closed carriage. 
 
 Mrs. White's greeting was marked by constraint, and 
 she sat in distressed silence for a moment after Clara and 
 Louise entered. At length she said : 
 
 "People will talk so! I'm sure you've been very good 
 and brave, Miss Hilman, but what is one to think?" 
 "I don't know what you mean, Mrs. White." 
 "Well, don't you see, lots of my friends have called, see- 
 ing Lizzie's name in the papers, and Mr. Strobel's, and 
 they will have it that they eloped." 
 
A NEW DEPARTURE. 117 
 
 "Do you think so?" asked Clara, and in spite of her 
 effort her tone was cold. 
 
 "I don't know what to think, " replied the landlady, 
 plaintively. 
 
 "You may think what you please," said Clara, her pride 
 mastering her diplomacy for the moment; "I am going to 
 New York to see your daughter. I called to say that you 
 might write to her freely so far as any wish of mine is 
 concerned, and to ask if I could take a look at Mr. Stro- 
 bel's room." 
 
 "Certainly," answered Mrs. White, uncomfortably. She 
 longed to ask the imperious young lady a host of ques- 
 tions, but she was restrained by Clara's hauteur. 
 
 The young ladies went up to Ivan's room, and found 
 there his trunk as he had left it, apparently, and every- 
 thing in just such condition as would be expected if a man 
 were about to move and were going to send for his effects 
 later. 
 
 When they went down again they found Litizki talking 
 with Mrs. White. 
 
 "So you are going to New York to-day?" he said with 
 some- appearance of disappointment. 
 
 " Yes," replied Clara, "but I don't care to have that in- 
 formation go further. Will you be careful, Mrs. White?" 
 Forgive me if I seemed harsh just now. I shall say nothing 
 unkind to your daughter, and I believe less than ever that 
 she eloped with Mr. Strobel. What have you found?" 
 she asked, turning to Litizki. 
 
 "Billings doesn't live at that address," he replied, 
 "although he used to. He hasn't been about there for 
 some time, and no one in the neighborhood knew he was a 
 cab-driver." 
 
 " Very well, " said Clara. "There is nothing more to do 
 in that direction for the present. I shall return from New 
 York on Saturday morning, probably. I should like to see 
 you then, if possible." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Hilman. W T hat train are you to take? I might 
 have something to report to you at the last minute." 
 
118 A SK\Y IfM'AL 
 
 Clara reflet ted and answered : 
 
 4 'I shall have to p> homo lirst. I don't see how I can go 
 earlier than by tl. o o'clock New England train, 
 
 you be there?" 
 
 Liti/ki said he would, and after some further conversa- 
 tion with Mrs. White the young ladies returned to Rox- 
 bury. Louise did not prepare to go to New York, the extra 
 expense this journey involved deterring her, for Mr. Pern- 
 broke was not one who reveled in great wealth It was le- 
 cided to apprise him of Clara's coming by telegraph, so 
 that she would not be without escort in the city. 
 
 Litizki was at the train as he promised to be, and as- 
 sisted Clara to her seat in the drawing-room oar. He lin- 
 gered until the starting signal had been given and then 
 s;iid "good-by" and jumped off; but instead of ran 
 in the depot, he ran forward and boarded the ordinary 
 smoking-car. 
 
LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER. 110 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke met Clara at the train when it arrived in 
 the Grand Central Depot promptly at nine o'clock. He was 
 plainly anxious, almost agitated. 
 
 4 'Tell me, child," he exclaimed, "why you have come?" 
 
 "I couldn't be satisfied," she replied, "without setting at 
 rest the rumors that connect Ivan's name with Lizzie 
 White. 11 
 
 "Oh," said her uncle, apparently relieved, "is that all?" 
 
 "All, uncle? Why, no, not if I find anything that leads 
 me to believe that Ivan is in New York. In that case I 
 shall search for him here. What did you think I had come 
 for?" 
 
 "I had nothing in mind except anxiety. When I re- 
 ceived your telegram, I feared something had happened. I 
 couldn't tell what. I have been so occupied with business 
 matters recently that I haven't been able to keep up with 
 you, you know. 1 * 
 
 "I'm so sorry to give you more trouble and anxiety," 
 said Clara, with the sincerest contrition, "but I felt as if 
 I must come on." 
 
 "Let us go straight to the hotel, " said Mr. Pembroke; 
 "I suppose there's nothing you want to do to-night?" 
 
 They had been standing on a station platform as they 
 talked, and not far away was Litizki, watching, trying to 
 listen, and wondering who the gentleman could be whom 
 Clara greeted so affectionately. He knew nothing about 
 her relationships, and supposed that Mr. Pembroke was 
 her father. He followed them and saw them enter a hack, 
 and he managed to get near enough to overhear Mr. Pem- 
 broke say "Travelers' Hotel" to the driver. Not content 
 
120 LOT IS/: HECEI] 
 
 With knowing the hot.-l, h- . Lili/ki ran along tho 
 
 sidewalk, keeping tlio vehicle in view all 
 did riot turn aside content until lie saw by the d-pai 
 of the hack empty that Clara and her es -re bot 
 
 the hotel. Then ho Mt that site would be safe through 
 niu'ht, for he was possessed of the iat the powerful 
 
 Poubalov would follow hor, and ho feared that she would 
 come to harm nt his hands. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke had said little on th<- way from the depot 
 to the hotel, but when they were in the quiet of Cla 
 room, he remarked : 
 
 "I suppose, my dear, that this coming to see I/. 
 Wliite is the last step you will take in this matter, i 
 it?" 
 
 "I cannot tell yet, uncle, " she replied; "I do not see 
 why it should be, but, of course, I know so many tl, 
 unectod with the case that I have had no opp 
 tell you things that I want to t- 11. I have needed s<> 
 body's advice, so much, and I could not intrude on 
 when you are eo busy. I would not even now hut tl. 
 think you ought to know as much as I do of what has 1 
 pened." 
 
 An expression of pain crossed Mr. Pembroke's features, 
 and he responded uneasily : 
 
 "Of course I want to help you, Clara, and I ana more re- 
 gretful than I can possibly express that my business has 
 boon in such shape." 
 
 "Are you seriously alarmed about it, uncle?" 
 
 "I was, but I think we shall pull through all right n 
 Let us talk of your affairs. I would like to suggest, with 
 all sympathy, Clara, that the world in general, while it 
 would admire your loyalty if it understood it, would yet 
 do so in a pitying way that would be eminent! iste- 
 
 ful to you if on your own part you understood the world. 
 You seo, you are regarded, no matter how unjustly, as 
 deserted. You have a remarkably clear head, and you 
 must see what I mean without putting me to the neces- 
 sity of using disagreeable terms." 
 
LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER. 121 
 
 Clara flushed. She felt at that moment the full force of 
 the calamity that had overtaken her. While she was ac- 
 tively at work building up theories, investigating clews, 
 and examining those who might throw light on the matter, 
 her grief had been measurably lightened. The thought 
 that she was working, however doubtfuly, toward an end, 
 had enabled her to keep her emotions in control. Her un- 
 cle's words, which were evidently but the preface to an 
 appeal to give up the struggle, reopened her wounds. It 
 was as if he had torn away the foundations of that struc- 
 ture of the mind by which she had supported her heart. 
 With difficulty she restrained her tears, and responded: 
 . "It would he better, uncle, to use plain language. Then 
 there would be no possible chance of a misunderstanding. 
 I know how I am looked upon, as deserted by my lover, 
 perhaps not for another woman, but at all events deserted 
 by him. The world will say that it would comport better 
 with womanly dignity to suffer in silence and solitude, 
 and that it is unmaideuly to pursue the man." 
 
 "You use harsher language than I would have used had 
 I spoken without consideration of your feelings, " inter- 
 posed her uncle, nervously. His niece's faculty for mani- 
 festing occasionally an imperious will, and of firmly main- 
 taining her own way without regard to general opinion, 
 had always been a bit of a terror to him. It was difficult 
 for him to reconcile it with her affectionate disposition, 
 her real consideration for the sufferings of others. He 
 could not see that in this matter, without the faintest 
 trace of egotism, she unconsciously measured her own 
 suffering as infinitely greater than that of anybody else 
 who was related to the case, and that she as uncon- 
 sciously asserted her. right to minister to that suffering 
 in the way best calculated to alleviate it. Such characters 
 as hers,' under the pressure of great trouble, elevate self- 
 interest to the very heights of nobility. 
 
 "I ask no consideration for my feelings," said Clara, al- 
 most coldly ; "it seems to me that real consideration would 
 credit me not only with dignified motives but with an in- 
 
122 LOUISE RECEIVES A CAL LER. 
 
 telligent basis for my conduct. Uncle dear," and she sud- 
 denly crossed to him and put her arms about his n> 
 "let me take that back. I didn't mean it. I wouldn 1 ' 
 the world say an unkind word to you, but you see I feel 
 my lonely position so keenly. I do what I think is right, 
 
 but there is no one to uphold me." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke disengaged her arms, and again the ex- 
 pression of pain flitted across his face. 
 
 "I am doing as well as I can under the <-r 
 he said huskily, "not only to show you ray deep sympa- 
 thy, but to guide you also. For your own interests, 1 must 
 point out one Hit}' of your interview to-morrow, 
 
 shall plaeo LO obstacle in the way of your seeing Li//ie 
 White, but I caution you, without knowing more a 
 her than that she left a good home, that she may tak- a 
 most unfriendly attitude. If there is anything unseemly in 
 the mef'tintr. I know that it will arise from her. No ono 
 can tell me that she lacks your native refinement ; it must 
 be so; a woman such as she is at heart may make a di 
 fnl soono, whether she be interested in Ivan or not. To be 
 concerned in such a scene, my dear child, would be a 
 
 -ma from which even your goodness could not osc 
 Clara, there is nothing so scandalous as a quarrel between 
 women when a man is in question." 
 
 44 You wish me not to see her," said Clara, faintly. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke rose and paced up and down in extreme 
 agitation for several minutes, while Clara sat with a 
 dreadful weight upon her heart; for she not only 1< 
 her uncle, and wished earnestly to be guided by him if 
 possible, but she also realized that his warn 
 one. She had herself, with all hrr thought, scarMy con- 
 sidered how she should approach Lizzie White. So certain 
 was she that Ivan had not eloped with her, that the inter- 
 view itself had not appealed to her as more than a frii-ndly 
 discussion of facts and rumors as to which both would be 
 in accord. But there was her theory that Lizzie might he 
 an accomplice of Poubalov's. What attitude might she not 
 
LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER. 123 
 
 take, therefore, in order to carry out her part in the spy's 
 design? 
 
 "I would say yes, " declared Mr. Pembroke at length, 
 "for that is my wish, hut I do not, cannot say it. Go to 
 this Lizzie White to-morrow, Clara. You will know how 
 to speak with her better than I can tell you. I will myself 
 go to the house with you, but you shall have your meet- 
 ing all alone if you so desire. Of course you do." 
 
 "Then, uncle," said Clara, "let me tell you of the 
 strange things that have occurred since I began to search 
 for Ivan. I am sure you will feel, when you know all, that 
 I am justified in my general course, however much I may 
 have been mistaken in details." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke listened with the closest attention to the 
 narrative. He was deeply moved by it, and when she had 
 finished he said brokenly : 
 
 "There is great villainy at work here." 
 
 Then he leaned his head upon his hand, shielding his 
 eyes from hers as she eagerly sought, not so much com- 
 mendation of her persistence as suggestion as to what to 
 do, or some theory upon which to explain the many mys- 
 teries that centered upon the disappearance of Ivan. 
 
 "I wonder," he mused at last, "if this could have been 
 accident?" 
 
 "Accident, uncle!" exclaimed Clara, with just a touch 
 of impatience; "don't you see that if it had been accident, 
 we should have known of it? Think: in a busy street of a 
 city no accident could have occurred by which Ivan could 
 be incapacitated without some report of it coming to the 
 authorities. Even if Ivan had not been taken to a hospital 
 in the usual way, but had fallen into the hands of private 
 persons, it is not possible that with all the stir that was 
 made by his disappearance, police or reporters should not 
 have found some trace of him." 
 
 "True, true, "said Mr. Pembroke, vacantly ; "I was 
 thinking you see it is hard to master all these strange 
 details at once. I marvel at your courage." 
 
 "Courage! What else could I do?" asked Clara. 
 
121 LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER. 
 
 "Nothing with your character, nothing else. You have 
 (1 .-mo right, Clara. I am very tired. Let us talk further of 
 this in the morning." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke was not disposed to talk in the morning, 
 however, and Clara was engrossed with a long letter from 
 Louise that had been mailed on the train leaving Boston 
 at midnight. 
 
 "Poubalov," she wrote, "was at the house when 1 re- 
 turned from seeing you off. If the man were capable of ex- 
 pressing emotion, I should say that he was disappointed 
 at not seeing you; but whatever he felt, he masked it un- 
 dT his grand assumption of dignity and courtesy. He had 
 called, he said, to make his apologies for his extraordinary 
 leave-taking of the evening before, and also, he added 
 with ponderous humor, to recover his property. I got his 
 hat and cane for him, and what do you think! he had 
 brought a lovely basket of flowers for yon, to plead his 
 apologies, as he put it. There was no refusing such an of- 
 fering, dear, and I am enjoying their fragrance and rich 
 colors as I write. I hope this will reach you in time to be 
 of use if Poubalov's call can be of use to you in Now York. 
 I thought it my duty to report it. I felt how immeasura- 
 bly superior you are to me intellectually I won't draw 
 other comparisons lest they be odious to one of us for I 
 was utterly at a loss to draw him out. He didn't present 
 his excuses to me, and how ho managed to evade doing so I 
 can't quite see now as I think it over, for he remained 
 several minutes, talking with apparent candor. The man 
 himself is as great a mystery as anything connected with 
 your trouble. All I can say is that with one hat on his 
 head, and his other hat and his cane in his hand, he eventu- 
 ally took his departure, promising to call again. There is 
 one thing I managed not to do, though it was quite plain, 
 even to me, that he was trying to find out. I didn 't tell him 
 where yon were Of course I had to say that you were not 
 at home, and in answer to direct questions that I did not 
 expect you before Saturday, but I didn't even hint at New 
 York or Lizzie White, and he made no allusion to either. 
 
LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLEE. 125 
 
 Did I do right? I hope so, for I have felt so often what a 
 shame it is that I cannot be of more help to you. I be- 
 lieve in Ivan as you do, dear, and my heart and thoughts 
 with are you." 
 
 They were at breakfast in the great dining room of the 
 hotel when Clara read this letter, and she furtively kissed 
 the paper that conveyed such loyal sympathy to her. As 
 she replaced the letter in the envelope, she was surprised 
 to see the old man Dexter hobbling across the room. 
 There was an ugly scowl upon his face as he bowed to 
 her, and Mr. Pembroka rose from his chair with an ex- 
 pression little less than fierce. 
 
 "Another lime, Dexter," he exclaimed under his breath, 
 taking the old man by the arm and wheeling him around. 
 As Mr. Pembroke walked him away, Clara heard Dexter 
 croak : 
 
 "What is she here for, Mat Pembroke?" 
 
 When her uncle returned, his face was still dark and he 
 said : 
 
 "Business necessities, Clara, that sometimes compel a 
 man to tolerate disagreeable persons. I wouldn't have him 
 near you, however." 
 
 "He is disagreeable, surely, " responded Clara, "but I 
 could have borne with him for your sake, uncle." 
 
 The subject seemed intensely disagreeable to Mr. Pem- 
 broke, and nothing further was said about it. 
 
 After breakfast Mr. Pembroke inquired the number of 
 the house on Second Avenue from which Lizzie White had 
 written, and they set out to find it. 
 
 "I shall have to leave you, Clara," said her uncle, "as 
 soon as I am suie you have found the right place. I will 
 call for yon or I will put a carriage at your disposal." 
 
 "There is no telling how long 1 shall be," returned 
 Clara, "and I don't see why you should need to inconven- 
 ience yourself. I have acquired more self-dependence dur- 
 ing the last three or four days than I ever had before, and I 
 think you can trust me to take care of myself. But I 
 should think it would be well to have a carriage at com- 
 
LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER. 
 
 raand; and, uncle, all the expense I have been to thus far 
 has come from my allowance. You will let me pay for a 
 carriage, won't you?" 
 
 "If you prefer to, "said Mr. Pembroke, "and we will 
 engage one in the vicinity of the house as we can reach 
 the place readily by a cross-town line of cars." 
 
 So they proceeded by street-car, and when they alighted 
 in Second Avenue they were but a short distance from the 
 desired number. Mr. Pembroke signaled to a pa- :ark 
 
 and instructed the driver to wait near the h< 
 they were going. Then they continued their way on funt. 
 
 Just before they came to the steps loading up to tin- d 
 their attention was attracted by the noise of a man run- 
 ning behind them, and then a voice panting, "Miss Hil- 
 man! Miss Hilinan !" 
 
 They turned about quickly, and, to her unspoakahlo sur- 
 prise, Clara saw that it was Liti/ki. His sallow fa 
 Hushed with the exertion of his long run, for lu> had 
 Hiasrd thm afoot from the hotel. He could hardly spoak 
 for lack of breath when he came up to them, but he did 
 manage to gasp: 
 
 "I're seen him, Miss Hilman, this morning 
 
LIZZIE WHITE. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LIZZIE WHITE. 
 
 Clara clutched her uncle's arm convulsively and leaned 
 heavily upon him. 
 
 "You have seen Mr. Strobel?" she whispered. 
 
 All the color fled from Litizki's face as he realized how 
 woefully he had put his foot in it. In the intensity of his 
 hate for Poubalov and his distrust of him, he had forgot- 
 ten for the moment that the spy was but a secondary fig- 
 ure in the drama they were enacting. Clara saw in the lit- 
 tle tailor's distressed expression that she had interpreted 
 his words erroneously. The double shock well nigh un- 
 nerved her. 
 
 "Let us walk on a little way," she said faintly. Stuyve- 
 sant Square was near by, and Mr. Pembroke led her 
 within the gates and sat with her upon a bench. Litizki 
 followed humbly, suffering miserably from his indiscreet 
 zeal, and Clara told her uncle who he was. Mr. Pembroke 
 asked: 
 
 "Well, my man, who is it you have seen?" 
 
 "Alexander Poubalov, sir," he replied with his eyes 
 upon the ground. 
 
 Strange!" said Mr. Pembroke, turning to his niece; 
 "did you tell him you were coming to New York?" 
 
 "No; I didn't mean that he should know it. He called 
 at the house yesterday after I had gone, and Louise writes 
 that she withheld any definite information about my 
 whereabout." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke looked inquiringly at Litizki. 
 
 "I came on yesterday by the same train that brought 
 Miss Hilman," he said, "for I didn't know that there was 
 anybody in New York to watch out for her. There was 
 
128 LlZZli: \VHJTE. 
 
 nothing for me to do in Boston, ami I was afraid for her. 
 Neither of you know this man Poubalv as 1 do. I >bou)d 
 say that he had the gift of second sight, but I d- 
 lieve in the supernatural.. He is not only a master of de- 
 ceit, but he has marvelous po\v discernment. 1 
 
 certain that he would pursue Miss Hiliuan, and 1 wanted 
 to do what I could to protect her. 
 
 "Mr. Litizki has been very kind and faithful, undo. " 
 said Clara; " you remember that I told you about him." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Pembroke, to wbom tin* idea nf bis 
 beautiful niece under the watchful eye of such an in 
 poaseasintf man was distasteful. "How did you mmo to 
 see Poubalov?" 
 
 "I wont to the hotel very early this morninp. '' v 
 reply, "and hung around where I could keep all tho <1 
 in view. Poubalov turned up. about half-past seven. Ho 
 was walking very rapidly. He went first into tin- 1 
 near yours, and I saw him examining the regis tbo 
 
 clerk's d. >k. Presently, with tho same hurried strides, ho 
 came out and went into the Travelers'. There he 
 over several pages of tbo register, and when ho had lh:- 
 isbod he strollod to the dour leisurely. All his bur 
 gone, and after pausing to light a oiparotto, he v 
 slowly down the avenue. I remained to give \\arnin 
 MNs Hilman. I didn't know your nam--, sir, or I would 
 have sont for you, and I couldn't get a cbawo to say a 
 word until just now. I am very sorry that I gav Hil- 
 
 man a wnmp imjirt'ssion. " 
 
 "Don't think of it, Mr. Liti/ki," said Clara, who 
 rapidly recovering her accustomed calmness; "it is all 
 over now. You se^, uncle, how strangely I am !> 
 There is no doubt, from Poubalov's actions, that ho has 
 followed me here. What is his purpose? To put Li 
 Wbi to on her guard? Then he has circumvented me, for 
 he has had nearly two hours in -which to act since he 
 found from the register that you were staying at theTniv- 
 elers', and perhaps my name, too, was on the book." 
 
 "Yes, I put it there myself, last night." 
 
LIZZIE WHITE. 129 
 
 Clara rose and extended her hand to Litizki. 
 
 "You are a faithful friend," she said, "and I am very 
 glad you told me this. I shall be the more satisfied with 
 my talk with Miss White now, for I shall be able to ask 
 questions that otherwise might not have occurred to me." 
 
 Litizki mumbled some words of acknowledgment of 
 her kindness, and Mr. Pembroke asked anxiously whether 
 she felt strong enough to proceed with her programme. 
 
 "Oh, yes, " she answered bravely ; "you won't need to 
 wait longer. I will take the carriage afterward and Mr. 
 Litizki, I suppose, won't be far away if I need escort." 
 
 "I shall not be far from you at any time," said the 
 tailor. 
 
 "I shall be glad when you are through with it," sighed 
 Mr. Pembroke. "I will accompany you as far as the house 
 as I at first intended." 
 
 Litizki hung back as they started and remained within 
 the entrance to the park until he saw them mount the 
 steps, and until Mr. Pembroke had gone down again, leav- 
 ing Clara in the house. 
 
 The servant who answered the ring had readily admitted 
 that Miss White lived there, and had invited the callers to 
 enter. She ushered Clara into a small reception-room, and, 
 without asking her name, went to find Lizzie. Clara sat 
 down to wait, feeling more perturbation than she had ex- 
 perienced at any time since her trouble began. She had 
 not long to pass in painful speculations, for Lizzie White 
 promptly responded to the summons. 
 
 "I supposed it was you," she said with a hard, resent- 
 ful tone as she entered the room. 
 
 Lizzie would have been a comely girl if her rather sharp 
 features had been softened by a pleasant expression. On 
 the contrary, disappointment and bitterness dwelt in her 
 eyes and drew down the corners of her mouth. She was 
 dressed as a domestic servant, wearing a white cap and 
 apron. She held an open letter in her hand, and sat down 
 in the nearest chair without making the slightest advance 
 to the kindly greeting that was upon Clara's lips as she 
 
130 LIZZIE WHITE. 
 
 rose. It was as if she expected a disagreeable scene, and 
 was determined not only to see it through, but to contrib- 
 ute her full share to its unpleasantness. 
 
 Clara's greeting was unuttered. 
 
 "Why did you think it was I?" she asked. 
 
 "This," said Lizzie, indicating the letter; "it's fro 
 mother." 
 
 "Did she tell you I was coming?" 
 
 "No, but she tells me how you've hunted for Mjrf Stro- 
 bel, and how people say he went away with me. I knew 
 well anough you'd come on here to find him." 
 
 ''It is hardly correct," said Clara, gently, "to say that I 
 came on to find him, though I would go anywhere to do 
 
 so.' 
 
 "Yes, I guess you would." 
 
 Lizzie was relentless. Her tone spoke determination to 
 make Miss Hilman suffer to the utmost. Clara conquered 
 the emotions that Lizzie stirred within her, and added: 
 
 "From the start, Lizzio, I have steadfastly denied that 
 Mr. Strobel went away with you, or that your departure 
 had to do with his disappearance. Please understand me: 
 I did not expect to find Mr. Strobel with you. If I had 
 thought differently, I should not have come." 
 
 Lizzie laughed scornfully. 
 
 "No," she said, "you would have known that you were 
 too late. You are very brilliant, Miss Hilman, but I gt 
 you're finding that it takes more than that to hold a 
 
 man. ' 
 
 This was as bad as anything that Clara had anticipated 
 as among the possibilities of the conversation; but, hold- 
 ing her great purpose firmly in mind, she persisted in con- 
 tinuing the interview. Suffer insult she must, but she 
 would not give up without obtaining some manner of 
 information. 
 
 "For your own good name, Lizzie " began Clara, but 
 
 the girl interrupted hotly : 
 
 "My good name! what have you to do with it, I should 
 like to know? I hadn't seen any Boston papers, and I 
 
LIZZIE WHITE. 131 
 
 didn't know until 1 got this letter that the whole city had 
 talked about me. They have said that I eloped with Mr. 
 Strobel, and that settles it, I suppose. Why didn't you let 
 mother write to me the day she received my letter?" 
 
 "I didn't ask her not to write," replied Clara, feeling a 
 little guilty at the thrust ; perhaps she had gone too far in 
 influencing the communication between mother and 
 daughter, setting her own anxieties and griefs above 
 theirs. "I asked her not to mention Mr. Strobel's disap- 
 pearance, and she chose herself not to write at all. I did 
 so because I confidently expected to obtain proofs in the 
 evening that he could not have gone with you." 
 
 "Then you did think so!" cried Lizzie triumphantly; 
 "you did fear, at least, that all 3^our education and money 
 and high society ways were not enough to keep him from 
 falling in love with a poor girl who has no position!" 
 
 "I had no such thought, " returned Clara, greatly dis- 
 tressed; "I did think that you would be happier to know 
 that such a thought could not occur to me, as you would 
 know if the circumstances were such as to prove that Mr. 
 Strobel could not have come to New York." 
 
 'Me, happy!" exclaimed Lizzie, bitterly, and then in 
 the same breath "You found it quite possible that he 
 could have come, didn't you?" 
 
 Ignoring the last part of her remark, Clara quickly took 
 her cue from the first, and said very gently : 
 
 "Your mother showed me your letter in which you said 
 you could be almost happy." 
 
 The color rushed to Lizzie's cheeks as she replied: 
 
 "Mother ought to have known better." 
 
 Then she shut her lips hard together, and it was plain 
 that she was obstinately determined to say no more on 
 that subject. 
 
 "I have sincerely tried," said Clara, "to think and act in 
 a friendly way, Lizzie." 
 
 "Friendly with a rival !" and again Lizzie laughed with 
 bitter scorn. 
 
 "I should not need the evidence of your words, " re- 
 
132 LIZZIE WHITE. 
 
 sponded Clara, "to convince ine that there never was any 
 rivalry between us." 
 
 She rose to go, and Lizzie looked at her with startled 
 eyes. Was this to be the end of the conversation'/ ( 'lara 
 was the picture of haughty pride, unmoved apparently by 
 any of the thrusts that Lizzie had tried t-> make, so cruel. 
 Jealously insensible to Clara's kindly advances, Li/./.ie was 
 completely overcome by her manifestation of ealm supe- 
 riority. She bit her lip and crumpled her mother's letter 
 in her hand. 
 
 "Mr. Strobel is not here," she said, and her voice br 
 as if the words choked her. 
 
 "I know it," remarked Clara, coolly, with her hand 
 upon the door. 
 
 "Miss Hilnian ! don't go yet!" 
 
 There was the sign of coming tears in Lizzie's eyes, and 
 Clara looked down upon h-r pityingly. 
 
 Lizzie made one last effort to ret-all her determinatio: 
 be bitter, and compel her visitor to suffer a> she si. 
 bat hers was not the strength of character to iu 
 gencies, overcome difficulties, and play a part unsw;i 
 by her deeper, genuine devotions. She extended her .inns 
 upon the table before her, and, laying her head upon th 
 burst into passionate crying. Clara laid h -r hand 
 inirly on Lizzie's head and waited until the first storm of 
 sobs had began to subside. Then she said in a quint but 
 not unkind voice: 
 
 "Lizzie, have you seen Alexander Poubalov this morn- 
 Ing?" 
 
 Tho girl half raised her head, choked back the sobs and 
 replied, "Who?" Clara repeated the name distinctly. 
 
 "I don't know who he is," answered Li/./.ie, wearily. 
 
 "Do you remember," asked Clara, "the gentleman who 
 called on Mr. Strobel the morning he was to be married'/" 
 
 "I remember somebody called, " said Lizzie, absently; 
 "mother showed him up. I didn't soe him. What has he 
 got to do with it? ' 
 
 Clara felt that she mu*t believe the girl, but she made 
 
LIZZIE WHITE. 133 
 
 one further move to discover whether in any way she 
 might be allied with Pouhalov. 
 
 "Has anybody been to see you this morning?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "No," replied Lizzie; "what has this man you mention ^ 
 got to do with it?" 
 
 "Everything, I think," said Clara. "It looks as if he 
 had caused Mr. Strobel's disappearance, abducted him in 
 fact, and I know that he followed me to New York." 
 
 Lizzie was not keen enough to see that Clara had in- 
 ferred a possible collusion between herself and Poubalov. 
 
 "Then," she said, "Mr. Strobel did not desert you at 
 all!" and the tears welled from her eyes afresh. Clara 
 knew that she would speak further, and after a moment, 
 with her face in her hand, Lizzie moaned: "I am very un- 
 happy, Miss Hilmsn.'X 
 
 'You must be, Lizzie, " returned Clara, caressing her, V 
 "and I don't ask you to tell me anything. I am sorry I 
 had to break in on you ; but if you understood how I have 
 been more than puzzled by the strange conduct of Mr. Stro- 
 bel's.enemy, you would forgive me." 
 
 "Forgive? Why, Miss Hilman, it is my place to ask for 
 forgiveness. I was so brutal when you first came in. 
 Don t you see, I," her voice faltered pitiably but she con- 
 tinued desperately, "I loved Mr. Strobel before he ever 
 met you, I think. He never mentioned love to me, but he 
 was so good and kind that I foolishly thought he was fond 
 of me. I suffered horribly when he told us of his engage- 
 ment, and I couldn't get over it. I thought of running 
 away many times, but I couldn't bring myself to do so 
 while he was still with us. I thought perhaps I would feel 
 differently after he was gone, but on that morning when 
 he was getting ready for the church, I simply couldn't en- 
 dure the thought of staying in the house any longer. So I 
 came away. I hadn't made any preparation. I took the 
 first train I could get, and while I was waiting I wrote a 
 note to mother. Did you see it? No? I started to tell her 
 why I went, but I couldn't, and I scratched the words out. 
 
134 LIZZIE WHITE. 
 
 I knew one friend in New York, and she got me employ- 
 ment here, where I thought I could work hard and forged 
 I hadn't heard a word of Mr. Strobel's disappearance unJ 
 til I got mother's letter. Then then I felt somehow as if it 
 was my revenge, and I think I hated you as much for! 
 your suffering as I did because you won his love." 
 
 Clara heard this painful confession with an achinJ 
 heart. Her sympathies were deeply touched by the artless- 
 ness with which this unhappy girl had developed bitter- 
 ness and discontent from her love that it might take J 
 lifetime of toil to soften. 
 
 "We both suffer, Lizzie," she said gravely; "I am glad 
 now that I came. Shall I tell your mother anything?" 
 
 "No! no! I will write what 's necessary. You can sag 
 that I am in a good family, and that some day I shall visit 
 her." 
 
 Lizzie looked appealingly at Clara as if she would havJ 
 her remain longer, but no good end was to be accompli 
 by prologing the interview, and Clara withdrew. 
 
 As she stepped into the waiting carriage, she beckoned 
 to Litizki who stood near the next corner. 
 
 "I am going to the hotel," she said, "and as soon as I 
 can I shall take the train for Boston. Will you get in?" 
 
 "No, thank you, Miss Hilman," replied Litizki, 
 abashed. "I will return by street-car. If you could let, me 
 know what train you intend to take, I should like it." 
 
 "There's a train at noon. If I can see my uncle I will 
 take that." 
 
 She was driven away, and Litizki, head down gloomy, 
 more and more impressed with the conviction that Pou- 
 balov was not only responsible for Strobel's disappear- 
 ance, but that he also plotted evil to Clara, slowly left the 
 ricinity. When he was well out of the way, Alexander 
 Poubalov left the window of a room he had hired two hours 
 earlier, directly across the street from the house where 
 Lizzie White lived, and came out upon the sidewalk. After 
 a quick glance up and down the avenue, he went over the 
 way, rang the bell, and asked to see Miss White. 
 
HOW LITIZK1 SAVED MISS HILMAN. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 HOW LITIZKI SAVED MISS HILMAN. 
 
 The ladies' entrance to the Travelers' Hotel was upon the 
 same street as the main corridor, almost next door to it. 
 Clara glanced in as the carriage slowly passed the open 
 doors and she saw her uncle at the further end, pacing 
 slowly toward her. Two men were with him whom she did 
 not at the moment recognize, but so anxious was she to 
 have a word with him that when she alighted, instead of 
 going in at the ladies' entrance, she stepped over to the 
 main doorway and stood there to attract his attention as 
 soon as he should come near. 
 
 He saw her immediately and quickened his pace. In 
 that instant she saw that one of the other men was Dex- 
 ter, and that he wheeled abruptly about, turning the 
 third man around with him. Dexter hobbled back toward 
 the clerk's desk and led his companion out of sight into a 
 passage that terminated in the corridor. Clara saw this 
 maneuver but dimly, as her attention was fixed upon her 
 uncle, whose face had the haggard, anxious expression 
 that she had noticed on it several times of late. He was 
 quickly beside her, and attributing his anxiety largely to 
 herself, she smiled bravely and said: 
 
 "There was no scandal, uncle, and very little of what 
 you could call a scene." 
 
 "You are back sooner than I thought for," he responded 
 with something of an effort. "Did you see anything?" 
 
 "Of Poubalov? No." 
 
 "I mean Strobel." 
 
 "Oh, no! lam convinced that Lizzie knows nothing of 
 him, poor girl!" 
 
 "So am I," said Mr. Pembroke with. a deep sigh; "I 
 
136 HOW LITIZKI SAVED MISS HILMAN. 
 
 have had no time, of course, to give the matter much 
 thought, but my impression is, and it grows constantly 
 stronger, that you will eventually find Strobel in Boston." 
 
 "And do you think I shall find him, uncle?" asked 
 Clara, eager for encouraging words. 
 
 "I hope so, my child, I hope so. It does not seem possible 
 that this affair will resolve itself into an unfathomable 
 mystery. There are few such things in real life, yon 
 know, and if the worst had happened to Strobel, we would 
 have heard of it." 
 
 "It gives me new courage to hear you say so," said 
 Clara looking wistfully at her uncle, "I wanted to speak 
 to you simply to let you know that nothing troublesome 
 has happened, and that it is my intention to return to Bos- 
 ton as soon as possible, though I don't know what I can 
 do after I get there." 
 
 "I would rest if I were you, Clara." 
 
 "I cannot think of rest now. We will see. Something 
 may happen to give me a fresh start, or I may discover a 
 new clew in something I already know, the significance of 
 which I have overlooked." 
 
 "Don't try to do too much; rest if you can, "pleaded 
 Mr. Pembroke. "I shall return myself to-night." 
 
 "Do you want me to wait and go with you?" 
 
 "I wouldn't," exclaimed her uncle, hastily; "you'll find 
 the journey nothing by daylight, and it might be fati- 
 guing at night. You are familiar with it, and don't mind 
 traveling alone for so short a time, do you?" 
 
 "Not at all. 1 merely thought you might want me to 
 wait." 
 
 "No, Dexter will have to be with me. I will be with you 
 at home in time for breakfast. You'll take the noon train, 
 I suppose? Good-by." 
 
 Haste was evident in Mr. Pembroke's manner as well as 
 in his words, and Clara bade him good-by at once. She 
 went to her room for her traveling bag, and when she re- 
 turned to the carriage Litizki was waiting for her. 
 
 "Is it the noon train, Miss Hilman?" he asked. 
 
HOW LITIZKI 8 A VED MISS HILMAN. 137 
 
 "Yes," she answered; "won't you ride to the station 
 with me?" 
 
 "Do you wish it?" said the little tailor, hesitatingly. 
 
 "Of course I do. Come, there may be things we wish to 
 tell each other." 
 
 So Litizki sat beside her on the way to the station, and 
 after the carriage started he said : 
 
 "Miss Hilman, I shrink from asking questions, and yet 
 I think you will admit that I have more than curiosity 
 about the result of your call on Miss White." 
 
 "You have every right to know," she responded; "we 
 talked very frankly after a while, and I came away satis- 
 fied that she is not an accomplice of Poubalov's. " 
 
 Litizki stared out of the window in silence for a time, 
 and finally spoke much as if he were addressing himself: 
 
 "When Miss Hilman says she is satisfied, it goes a great 
 way to convince me." 
 
 "You are still in doubt, then?" asked Clara. 
 
 "I cannot help being so. Poubalov grows upon me until 
 he is ever present in my mind, like a horrid nightmare, 
 ' At every step we take it is Poubalov. If ever anything is 
 discovered, you discover Poubalov's hand in it. Whenever 
 we make an attempt to gain a point, we are frustrated, 
 and it is Poubalov who stands over and above, in and 
 through all, moving us with his master-hand, and setting 
 up obstacles when we would move of our own will. We 
 are at the mercy of him who knows no mercy, and so long 
 as Poulabov remains in America, we are without hope, 
 unless he accomplishes his purpose and has no further use 
 : for Mr. Strobel." 
 
 Litizki spoke with profound melancholy and just that 
 touch of extravagance in language that Clara had noticed 
 the first time she saw him in Mrs. White's. 
 
 "I don't wonder," she said, "that you estimate Pouba- 
 lov's power for evil so greatly, and it would be folly for 
 the friends of Mr. Strobel to underestimate him ; and 
 yet, with a woman's imperfect reasoning, I feel that we 
 shall some daj r outreach him." 
 
188 HOW LITIZKI SA VED MISS HILMAN. 
 
 "There is nothing imperfect in your reasoning, Miss 
 Hilman, " and for once Litizki addressed her directly, his 
 gloom y eyes fixed upon her own; "but you are speaking 
 from the kindness of your heart rather than from the L 
 of your brain. This is not my first experience with Pouba- 
 lov. But no matter. " He turned away abruptly and airain 
 L:. i /ed out of the window. "It is nothing short of great- 
 - in you, "he continued presently, "in the midst of 
 your sorrow to try to throw a little light into my life. 
 Every kind word and every encouragement from you hurts 
 me almost as much as the oppression and injustice from 
 which 1 have suffered all my life. Until I knew Mr. Stro- 
 bel I knew not real kindness. I am yet unused to it. and 
 so it se< :ietimes as if you had stabbed me. Butt; 
 
 is difference, Miss Hilman: Whereas constant in jus- 
 tice deadens the heart, kindness quickens it, and 1 shall 
 yet <l> si >i nothing, you may be sure, that will not only bo 
 evidence of my sincerity and devotion, but that will ac- 
 tually help you." 
 
 "Mr. Litizki, " returned Clara, disturbed by his morbid 
 tone rather than by his words, which were but charac 
 istio of his point of view, "you dwell too much upon ti 
 things, not only upon what has been evilly done to you, 
 but upon what seems to you as exceptional goodness. Let! 
 us not think more about it until the time comes for action. 
 Then we shall be the better prepared to think quickly 
 and effectively. See, here we are at the depot. I will let] 
 you get my ticket for me, as you will have to go to the 
 window also, and I will avoid the nuisance of havin. 
 wait in the line." 
 
 Litizki took her purse without a word, after she had 
 settled with the driver, escorted her to a seat and t 
 went to the ticket window. When he returned he 
 played unusual coolness, for him, as he handed her the 
 ticket and said : 
 
 "Poubalov will go by the same train as you. He is eve 
 now in this room, and he saw me buy the t 
 
HOW LITIZKI SAVED MISS HILMAN. 139 
 
 course I pretended not to see him, but he despises me and 
 cares not for all my efforts." 
 
 Clara felt no fear at this information, but it neverthe- 
 less aroused a sense of discomfort. A presentiment of mis- 
 fortune she readily dismissed ; this fact of being persist- 
 ently "shadowed" by a man whom she believed to be her 
 enemy she could not dismiss, and she could not shake off 
 the irritation caused by it. 
 
 "Suppose," suggested Litizki, "that you pretend to 
 take this train but really wait for the next one." 
 
 "No, "replied Clara, "I will not be interfered with in 
 my movements by Poubalov. I suppose it is his right to 
 take the train, if he chooses to do so, as well as it is mine. 
 I will go to my car now, please, and if he ventures to in- 
 trude upon me I shall know how to relieve myself of his 
 presence." 
 
 Litizki's eyes sparkled with exultant satisfaction for 
 just an instant, and then the fire that lit them subsided to 
 a steady glow that would have revealed a fixed and awful 
 purpose had anybody seen it and read it correctly. But he 
 kept his eyes averted as he escorted Clara to the car, 
 thinking of her words, weighing them, repeating them to 
 himself. They sank deep into his brain, where his percep- 
 tions of life, disordered by a rankling sense of injustice, 
 distorted them and threw them back to the surface of his 
 thoughts with an interpretation all his own. 
 
 "She has the nature of heroes," he said to himself, 
 "and she is capable of it! She is great, grand! How fitting 
 that Alexander Poubalov should meet at last a foe of infi- 
 nite spirit, intellect as keen as his own, courage unfalter- 
 ing, and that foe a woman ! But she is a woman, and her 
 place is beside my benefactor. She must be saved for him 
 and for herself. She must be spared this demonstration of 
 her right to rank with heroes. I know what she is, and 
 Strobel shall know when, Poubalov out of the way, he 
 gains his freedom. She must be saved, and I must save 
 her. It is my fate!" 
 
 Wholly unsuspicious of the raving that was going on in 
 
110 HOW LITIZKI SA VED MISS HILMAN. 
 
 her strange companion's mind, Clara proceeded to the car 
 and took the chair that the porter pointed out to her. For 
 just an instant it occurred to her to ask Litizki to sit with 
 her, but there was nothing Quixotic in her character; she 
 knew that the little tailor would he immeasurably hurt if 
 she should suggest paying his traveling expenses, and, 
 withal, he made her uncomfortable. She thought very 
 kindly of him, but she felt no need of his protection. 
 
 "We will meet again in Boston," she said, pleasantly, 
 "and we may yet do some work together." 
 
 "Perhaps so, " responded Litizki. "I shall be on the 
 train, and if you like I will watch outside till it starts and 
 let you know whether Poubalov gets on board." 
 
 "It's hardly necessary," said Clara; "still, if you would 
 rather do so, I have no objection." 
 
 Litizki, therefore, loitered on the platform beside the 
 train until just before starting time. Then he went to 
 Clara and told hor that Poubalov had taken a seat in the 
 car just lu'hind hers. 
 
 "I have no fear," she assured him, "but you may look 
 for me when we get to Boston." 
 
 She made this arrangement wholly for his sake, realiz- 
 ing the man's devotion and anxiety to serve her. He 
 bowed gravely and made his way to the platform again, 
 but instead of going to an ordinary coach he climbed the 
 steps to the rear platform of the parlor car in which Pou- 
 balov sat. 
 
 "Can you give mo a seat in this car?" he asked of the 
 conductor as the train started. 
 
 "There's just one left," replied the official as he con- 
 sulted his slips after a curious glance at the inquirer. 
 
 Litizki paid for the seat immediatley. It was at the very 
 back of the car, against the partition of the smoking room 
 wherein Poubalov was at the time seeking the comfort he 
 found in cigarettes. 
 
 The train had been in motion more than an hour when 
 Poubalov appeared. He saw Litizki, and raised his brows 
 slightly, as if in mild surprise. With no other sign of reo- 
 
HOW LITIZKI 8 A VED MISS HILMAN. 141 
 
 ognition he took his seat, which was in about the middle 
 of the car. 
 
 Hours passed slowly while the train rushed on as if 
 madly intent upon checking the flight of time. Poubalov 
 occupied himself with a book. Litizki could not have fol- 
 lowed the words on a printed page had he tried to do so. 
 His brain worked over and over the idea that had found 
 its way there days before, and he could not, if he would, 
 have thought of anything else. 
 
 "The time matters not, "he argued with himself; "as 
 well now as at another, but there must be provocation if 
 possible. If there is no provocation, then proceed without 
 it. It must be done at all hazard. And there must be no 
 failure." 
 
 Somewhere between Westerly and Providence the train 
 came to a stop. There was trouble with the engine what, 
 it matters not. The train could not proceed until the dam- 
 age had been repaired. A brakeman was sent forward to 
 the next station to telegraph for assistance, and the engi- 
 neer busied himself in effecting a temporary adjustment 
 of the machinery, so that some progress could be made 
 even though it were slow. Poubalov went forward with 
 many passengers to watch the work, and Litizki followed 
 him. Altogether nearly two hours were lost by the acci- 
 dent, so that it was dark when the train rushed through 
 the suburbs of Boston. 
 
 Poubalov then rose and went into the car forward. Li- 
 tizki went after and saw the spy drop into a chair not 
 far from where Clara sat, her back to the window, her 
 profile clearly in view. There were many vacant seats in 
 the car, some unoccupied at the moment because the pas- 
 sengers, weary with the long journey, were standing up, 
 making early preparations for departure. All the men 
 were at the forward end, waiting their turns at the wash- 
 room. 
 
 The train had just rolled past Roxbury crossing, two 
 miles from the terminus, when Poubalov rose again and 
 sauntered forward, sinking negligently into the chair 
 
112 HOW LITIZKI SAVED MISS HILMAN. 
 
 back of Clara which had just been vacated by a lady who 
 was now submitting to the brush of the porter. 
 
 Litizki saw Clara start when Poubalov addressed her, 
 and his hand sought his pocket, but he withdrew it 
 empty when he observed that the spy had left his cane 
 Waning against the side of the car near his former seat. 
 
 "That will do better," muttered the tailor, and he went 
 to Poubalov's chair, took the cane in his hands, and, all 
 unobserved by any of the preoccupied passengers, released 
 the catch and drew forth the long blade. Concealing it by 
 his side as he took the few remaining steps that lay be- 
 tween him and his victim, he presently raised it high over 
 Poubalov's heart, and with the words, "I will do it for 
 you, Miss Hilman!" brought it down with all his force. 
 
 Poubalov fell into the aisle with a loud gasp, and Clara, 
 uttering one scream of terror, bent over him. 
 
 Litizki dashed to the rear platform. There was nobody 
 in his way save one or two frightened women. The brake- 
 man had already opened the doors of the vestibuled plat- 
 form and before any one could lay hands upon him, the 
 little tailor had swung himself off into the darkness. 
 
THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 
 
 The train was proceeding at such comparatively slow 
 speed that Litizki, though he had jumped blindly and 
 though he fell full length on the ground, was not hurt. Be- 
 fore the rear car had passed he was on his feet and mak- 
 ing across the tracks. A fence too high for him to scale 
 barred his progress, and he hurried in the direction of 
 Roxbury, looking for some means of egress from the 
 yard" through which the railroad ran. He found it at 
 last, a narrow gate in the fence at the end of a short 
 street. The gate was unlocked, and Litizki was soon upon 
 Columbus Avenue. 
 
 Until then he had been conscious of no especial emotion, 
 and his course had been taken instinctively rather than 
 with a definite purpose of effecting his escape; but instead 
 of breathing free now that he was where for a time at 
 least he could mingle with the passers unsuspected, a 
 great fear came upon him. Throughout all the long jour- 
 ney he had nursed his awful purpose calmly and stead- 
 fastly, never for an instant wavering ; now he seemed still 
 to feel the handle of the dagger in his palm, he saw the 
 blade flash as he poised it over Poubalov's heart, and he 
 heard again the loud gasp with which the spy fell under 
 the blow. Litizki trembled. His throat was parched, his 
 skin hot, but dry as the dust on the pavement. He glanced 
 furtively up and down the avenue, as if to see the police- 
 man who would presently arrest him. 
 
 Litizki had paused, unable to walk without staggering, 
 when he dropped so completely from heroism to trepida- 
 tion. He grasped a trolley post for support and was dimly 
 conscious that two or three girls who were passing 
 laughed at him for being helplessly drunk. Half uncon- 
 
144 TEE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 
 
 sciously he felt in his pocket and drew forth the revolver 
 with which he had intended to kill the spy. Should he 
 not end his misery then and there, and cheat the hang- 
 man? He looked down at the tiny barrel, so large in irs 
 tragic possibilities, and with the thought that he had but 
 to exercise a steady hand upon himself as he had upon 
 Poubalov in order to plunge into oblivion, he began to iv- 
 cover. The grated cover of a sewer basin was at his fret 
 and he dropped the weapon upon it. It rebounded a very 
 littlo and then slipped through the grating, out of sight 
 and out of reach. Litizki instantly wondered why he had 
 done that. 
 
 "That was unreasonable. The revolver was not evi- 
 dence,*' he muttered, and then a wild joy surged in his 
 heart as he reflected tbathe had accomplished his purpose. 
 
 "That was no crime in the light of reason," he argued. 
 "The necessities of the situation demanded it, and though 
 the law will say otherwise, I am content." 
 
 He was almost himself again now, and it flashed upon 
 him that his work, after all, was but half done. There was 
 one other stop to be taken before his heroic deed could bo 
 of service to her whom he worshiped, and to his bt >nefae- 
 tor whom he idolized. Strobel must be freed, but how? 
 Certainly not by standing there at the curb in plain view, 
 waiting to bo arrested. No; whatever be his ultimate 1 
 he must effect at least a temporary escape. 
 
 Once more steadied by a purpose to strive for, Litizki 
 crossed the avenue and walked on in the same general di- 
 rection until he came to Washington Street. His delay at 
 the curb had been brief as measured by the watch. \Vifh 
 every step he took his brain grew clearer. He saw the 
 folly of going to Poubalov 's lodging-house in Bulfinch 
 Place for the purpose of releasing Strobel. His conviction 
 that Strobel was confined there had not been shaken by 
 any of the events since his failure to expose Poubalov's se- 
 cret. News of the murder would undoubtedly be taken to 
 that house before he could get there. The release must be 
 effected by some other hand than his own ; but what mat- 
 
THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 145 
 
 ter? He had made the release possible. Miss Hilman 
 would ever give him credit for it, and that was enough, as 
 undoubtedly she would tell Strobel how it came to pass. 
 
 His plan of operation was fully formed when he 
 reached Washington Street. He boarded the first Chelsea 
 ferry car that came along, and set himself to thinking of it. 
 When the conductor touched his shoulder to remind him 
 of his fare, he started violently as if the avenging hand of 
 law had been laid upon him. There was a recurrence of 
 the dreadful fear that had momentarily possessed him, and 
 again he shook as if with an ague. He felt an almost irre- 
 sistible impulse to jump from the car and run; and when 
 at last he left it, near the far end of Hanover Street, he 
 had not yefc recovered. With great difficulty he dragged 
 his steps through the crowded streets of the North End 
 until he came to the house where Vargovitch lived. As he 
 climbed the stairs, he felt his courage return; and when 
 Vargovitch bade him enter, he was again the somber, 
 depressed figure with which all his acquaintances were fa- 
 miliar. 
 
 'Vargovitch, " he said directly but with averted eyes, 
 ; I leave the country to-morrow, never to return. Do not 
 ask me why. You will know soon enough after I have 
 gone. See, I have so much money," and he emptied the 
 contents of his purse upon the table. "It is enough for the 
 present, perhaps, but j shall some day need more, and I 
 leave behind me accounts and stock, to say nothing of 
 business good will, that are of value. I want you to help 
 me realize upon them." 
 
 Vargovitch looked sternly at his friend. 
 
 "That mad head of yours," he responded, "has led you 
 at last to difficulty from which there is no exit. I will ask 
 no questions, Litizki, but I will not be concerned in your 
 affair. You should not have come here." 
 
 Litizki was sufficiently master of himself to repress the 
 tremor that threatened him. 
 
 "Do you desert me, Vargovitch?" he asked, turning his 
 dull eyes apathetically on his comrade. 
 
146 THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 
 
 "I'll accept no responsibility for what you may have 
 done, " returned Vargovitch, "I will neither harbor you 
 nor inform upon you." 
 
 "I do not ask the one, and I know you would not do the 
 other. I shall remain but a short time. Come ! will you 
 take my business and dispose of it for me?" 
 
 "Money cannot be raised among our people to-night." 
 
 "I know it, but you can send me some when you have 
 collected. Let me sit down and write a moment." 
 
 Vargovitch silently placed writing materials before 
 him, and Litizki wrote rapidly. When he had done, he 
 handed the paper to his friend. It was a surrender of all 
 his business property to Vargovitch, as complete a bill of 
 sale as he could draw. 
 
 "Take it or destroy it," said Litizki; "I go now, and by 
 and by I shall send you my address. If you have accepted 
 the trust I impose upon you, you will send me money; if 
 not " The tailor shrugged his shoulders and went to 
 the door. "It is the last time you look upon me, Vargo- 
 vitch," he concluded. 
 
 "It is a wild scheme," mutterd Vargovitch, looking at 
 the document, "but we will see." 
 
 The noise of the door closing aroused him. Litizki had 
 left the room. 
 
 On the street Litizki again had to struggle against the 
 fear that his crime excited. All through the long night it 
 came to him at irregular intervals, and he vibrated be- 
 tween an exaltation when he regarded himself as a hero, 
 and abject cowardice when the rustling of a leaf made 
 his very soul shiver. On this occasion, that is, after leav- 
 ing Vargovitch, he staggered through unfamilicir streets 
 and alleys, hoping that no friend would see him, and at 
 length during a period of self-possession, he crossed the 
 ferry to East Boston. There he took a room in an emi- 
 grant's hotel near the Cunard steamship dock. He knew 
 that some boat of this line would depart on the morrow, 
 the regular sailing day, and he had resolved to take pas- 
 sage in it. 
 
THE KEY TO IVAN'S PEI80N. 147 
 
 In the office of the hotel he found that the boat was the 
 Cephalonia, and that she was scheduled to start at half- 
 past eleven. That was a late hour, and he would be in 
 great peril until then, but there was nothing for it but to 
 take his changes. So he gathered up a lot of writing mate- 
 rials and retired to his room. He spent most of the night 
 in writing to Clara. 
 
 ''In staying yo'ir hand, " he began abruptly, without 
 address of any sort, "from exacting from Alexander Pouba- 
 lov the penalty of his crime against you, the penalty 
 which your hand alone was worthy to exact, I was im- 
 pelled not by egotism, or sudden emotion. It was my pur- 
 pose to save you for a happier career than with all your 
 nobility of character you could have achieved had you 
 yourself done the deed. I shall try to escape the punish- 
 ment that society would inflict upon me for this act of 
 justice, for I find that at this moment I cling to my miser- 
 able life as does the dog whose master starves and mal- 
 treats him. If I do not escape, it will matter not at all, 
 and I ask no tears from your beautiful eyes. I know your 
 character so well that I shall die content with the grati- 
 tude that I know will warm your heart for your unwor- 
 thy servant. 
 
 "The blow that struck away the mighty obstacle to your 
 success and happiness was but the key to the door that is 
 closed upon Ivan Strobel. The happiness of opening that 
 door with my own hands is not to be for me, and I do not 
 deserve it. I am content to show you the w r ay. 
 
 "Poubalov's rooms are at 32 Bulfinch Place. He occupies 
 two, possibly three rooms there, and in the sense that he 
 has undoubtedly bought the landlady, the whole house is 
 his. I am convinced that Strobel is confined there, and 
 that that has been his prison house since his abduction 
 last Monday. There will be no bar now to 3 T our going to 
 the house and releasing your lover and my benefactor. 1 
 will tell you what room he is in, or at all events was in 
 last Thursday night; and that you may thoroughly under- 
 stand me, Iwill relate how I came to know this, although 
 
148 THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 
 
 in so doing I shall lay bare to you the secrets of my hoart 
 and confess to you the weak, good-for-nothing that I am 
 such as you yourself have found me to be. I hope my ac- 
 tion of this evening will redeem me somewhat in your 
 eyes." 
 
 Here followed a detailed account of Litizki's attempted 
 rescue of Strobel, and he mitigated none of the mortifying 
 occurrences, freely confessing himself a child in the hands 
 of his adversary. 
 
 "The room where Strobel was confined on that nijrht," 
 he continued, "is the little one adjoining Poubalov's main 
 room. It is directly over the hall as you enter, one flight 
 up. I doubt very much whether Poubalov has transferred 
 his prisoner to any other part of the house, for that would 
 have provoked comment and perhaps suspicion among the 
 lodgers. Your happiness, therefore, is now in your own 
 hands, and if j escape I shall never see you again. I could 
 almost wish that I would be taken, for the certainty that 
 you would come to visit me in my cell ; but it is my desire 
 to relieve you of everything that might even remind you 
 of sorrow, and I therefore take leave of you in this letter 
 with the hope that you will act upon it without delay, and 
 that no accident will rob you of the reward which your 
 loyalty merits." 
 
 He signed his name without any formal concluding 
 phrases, and having addressed, stamped and sealed the 
 envelope, he went out to post it. The dawn was just 
 breaking, and he could see with sufficient clearness all 
 about the street and the freight yard in the vicinity of the 
 hotel. No one, apparently, was stirring save himself. Be- 
 lieving that Clara would get the letter sooner if he took 
 it to a post office instead of a street box, he attempted to 
 find one. He knew there must be a branch office in East 
 Boston somewhere, but he knew not whore to look for it. 
 He had come to the corner of Mavtrick Square when he 
 saw a policeman standing within the shadow of a building. 
 A violent shudder came over him as he suddenly realized 
 that he had taken one step toward the officer with a view 
 
t 
 
 THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 
 
 o asking the way to the post office ! One of his fits of fear 
 attacked him and again he staggered, but if the policeman 
 had any thought of arresting him for drunkenness, he 
 gave no indication of it, and Litizki stumbled on undis- 
 turbed. 
 
 When he thought he could do so safely, he turned into 
 a doorway to recover. He saw a street letter-box within 
 twenty feet, but as he started toward it, letter in hand, 
 he heard a bell ringing. 
 
 "The ferry!" he muttered, and he began to run toward 
 the river. With all his fears the little tailor kept his head 
 faithful to his purpose. It was now in his thoughts that 
 he would cross the river to the mainland and post his let- 
 ter in the general office on Devonshire Street, whence he 
 knew it would be taken with the least delay to Mr. Pem- 
 broke's house. He was conscious of the risk in thus show- 
 ing himself even in the solitary hours of the early morn- 
 ing, but his courage was returning, and he felt again a 
 hero who would brave all for her to whom he owed fealty. 
 
 The gateman at the ferry heard him running down the 
 street and held the boat for him. Litizki sank breathless 
 upon a bench and felt again the triumph of his deed. He 
 reveled in the difficulties he was overcoming and the dan- 
 gers that beset him. 
 
 A car was waiting at the city side of the ferry, and Li- 
 tizki rode in it as far as Scollay Square. Then he walked 
 to the post office, and remembering that a stamp window 
 was open all night, he found it and added to his letter a 
 "special delivery." 
 
 "Now," he muttered, dropping the important missive 
 in the box, "it doesn't matter what happens to me." 
 
 He returned on foot by devious ways to the ferry, more 
 than once evading marketmen and other early pedestrians 
 as he felt the recurrence of terror, and at length came 
 again to his hotel. The employees of the house were astir, 
 steerage passengers were beginning to arrive, and Litizki 
 felt a sudden repugnance to the solitude of his chamber. 
 He sat by a window in the office and watched the groups 
 
150 THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. 
 
 of men and women who gradually gathered at the en- 
 trance to the dock, waiting to go on board the Cephalonia, 
 or to bid good-by to friends and relatives. 
 
 Before very long he heard the strident voice of a news- 
 boy calling his morning wares. He listened for a quota- 
 tion of startling headlines, expecting that the murder of a 
 passenger in a drawing-room car would be the groat n 
 feature of the day. Perhaps this boy had not read his 
 papers carefully. At all events, he shouted nothing what- 
 ever concerning the event that had crowned Litizki's life 
 and made him a hero and a coward at once. 
 
 After some hesitation the tailor bought a paper, and 
 ran his eyes over the captions of the leading articles. J Io 
 found no reference to his deed there, He examined the 
 paper, column by column, from first page to last, and not 
 one line set forth so much as a hint of Poubalov's tragic 
 end. 
 
THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE GHOST OF POUBALOV, 
 
 Litizki laid the newspaper down and tried to reflect. 
 He had not slept at all since he awoke from a very brief 
 nap in New York the morning before ; therefore, he had 
 not dreamed the scene in the drawing-room car. With his 
 own hand he had actually struck Poubalov to the heart, 
 and his victim had fallen with the gasp and shudder of 
 death. This was so, and no newspaper could make it other- 
 wise; but how should it happen that the reporters had 
 missed the episode? 
 
 It had happened upon a railroad train ; what more prob- 
 able, then, than that the railroad officials had suppressed 
 the news? He bad read many accounts of accidents in 
 which the reporters set forth the reticence of officials 
 and employees. 
 
 "They imagine," thought Litizki, "that it is not for 
 their interest to let the public know that so violent a 
 crime, so they would call it, could be committed in one of 
 their high-toned cars, and that, moreover, the murderer 
 could escape." 
 
 This thought appeased for a moment the new fear that 
 threatened to unman him for all time, the fear that he 
 had failed ! Though he openly and emphatically repudi- 
 ated all superstitions, and boasted over and again that his 
 life and views were ruled by reason alone, he was yet sub- 
 ject to influences that, if they were not superstitions, 
 were remarkably like them. Among these were his esti- 
 mate of Poubalov, whose invincibility seemed to surpass 
 human powers and attributes. Litizki was conscious of 
 this tendency to surround the spy with a supernatural at- 
 mosphere, and he struggled against it, the result of his 
 struggle invariably being his deeper self-abasement as he 
 
152 THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 
 
 recognized Poubalov's immeasurable superiority. Now he 
 felt again this superhuman character of the spy appealing 
 to him, setting his poor brain in a whirl, and blurring his 
 eyes as if a mighty wind had taken up the dust of the 
 street and hold it suspended in a dense cloud before him. 
 "Bah!" exclaimed Litizki, striking his brow angrily, 
 "he cannot 1 ' and he stopped suddenly, conscious that he 
 was speaking aloud. There was nobody in the room but a 
 sleepy clerk, who looked up curiously from his ledger and 
 then bent his head again over his work. Litizki tried to 
 force his thoughts away from the topics that absorbed 
 him. It occurred to him that he had eaten nothing since 
 the morning before, and he went to the hotel restaurant. 
 On the table at which he took a seat was a newspaper left 
 by some previous customer. It was the same journal that 
 had beaten its contemporaries in the first publication of 
 the rumor, that was finally accepted as news, concerning 
 the elopement of Strobel and Lizzie White. Litizki recalled 
 the superior enterprise of this paper, and while waiting 
 for his breakfast, he looked it over. Yes! there it was, 
 and his heart bounded with joy and fear at once. It was 
 not a long story under a half-column head, but the few 
 lines were double-leaded, and paragraphed at every period. 
 A newspaper man would have seen at a glance that the 
 item had come in late, after the forms were made up, and 
 that the editor had "lifted" a story of minor interest to 
 make room for this. "Probable Murder," was the caption, 
 and the statement beneath it was as follows : 
 
 "A passenger in one of the drawing-room cars attached to the New 
 York express due at Park Square at six P.M., but some hours late 
 last night, was stabbed just before the train reached the station. 
 
 "It is believed that the wound was mortal. 
 
 "The assailant took advantage of the excitement and confusion to 
 jump from the train. 
 
 "No trace of him has been found. 
 
 "The name of the victim is not known at this writing. 
 
 "No rumor concerning the tragedy reache this office until long 
 after midnight. 
 
 "The police, to whom the railroad officials secretly reported the 
 
THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 153 
 
 affair, for reasons best known to themselves, withhold information, 
 but they admit that the assault took place as described above. 
 
 "It is believed that the murderer will be arrested this morning. 
 
 "An extra edition giving full details of this occurrence will be pub' 
 lished at ten o'clock." 
 
 Litizki looked cautiously around the room. A policeman 
 in full uniform was eating at a table near the door. For 
 one instant the tailor meditated flight through an open 
 window. Then he pulled himself together and ate his 
 breakfast, "We shall see," he' thought, and he hastened, 
 that he might finish ahead of the policeman and pass di- 
 rectly in front of him on the way to the office. 
 
 ''If he is here to arrest me," reflected Litizki, "he will 
 ohey his instructions when he sees me go out. If he lets 
 me alone, it will mean that there is still a chance for 
 me." 
 
 The policeman did not stir when Litizki passed him. The 
 tailor paid his bill, and, the dock being open, went to the 
 steamship office and bought a steerage ticket for Liver- 
 pool. He was exultant once more, proud of himself as a 
 hero. 
 
 "The next edition, and then all the papers," he thought, 
 "will print my name, and everybody will know what I 
 have done. When Strobel is released there will be plenty 
 of thinking people who will applaud me in their hearts, 
 whatever they may say aloud." 
 
 Believing that he could sleep now that his mind was 
 relieved of uncertainty, he went down into the men's de- 
 partment of the steerage and crawled into a bunk away 
 forward. A great many passengers were booked for this 
 trip, and a compartment never used except in the event of 
 a crowd had been fitted in the very prow of the ship. Li- 
 tizki knew that the steward would not assign the bunks 
 there until none were left elsewhere, and he hoped, there- 
 fore, to be undisturbed until after the boat had started. 
 
 So he lay down upon the toarse mattress and tried to 
 sleep. He closed his eyes only to view again the scene in 
 the drawing-room car. Physical fatigue caused his mind 
 
154 THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 
 
 to wander, and he would be conscious that he was drop- 
 ping into sleep when suddenly his nerves would seem to 
 be on fire with life, and he would start violently and grip 
 the low rail of his bunk as if he were about to fall out. By 
 dint of will power he compelled himself to remain there, 
 although as the time passed he was in momentary expecta- 
 tion of arrest. He began to regret that he had shown him- 
 self so freely. Once the steamer was under way he would 
 be able to rest undisturbed by phantasies for ten days. 
 After that, what matter? Those ten days should be passed 
 in full enjoyment of his one successful act. 
 
 As the forenoon dragged along the steerage filled with 
 men, and there was a constant hum of voices, and the 
 shuffling of feet as the passengers jostled about in the 
 narrow quarters and stowed their baggage on and under 
 their bunks. Several men came into Litizki's compart- 
 ment and took possession in turn of the unoccupied places. 
 Some of them remained, scraping acquaintance with one 
 another, and passing about the liquor without copious 
 draughts of which few ocean travelers regard a voyage as 
 properly begun. In the saloon, champagne serves as the 
 exhilarant for a scene that should need no wine to set 
 healthy blood to sparkling ; and in the steerage, the whis- 
 ky flask accomplishes its purpose just as effectively. A 
 fellow-passenger offered his flask to Litizki. He was no 
 drinker, and he accepted the friendly offering more to at- 
 tract no comment to himself than because he craved a 
 stimulant. 
 
 Having mumbled "thanks, friend" and drunk as much 
 as his throat would tolerate of the fiery stuff, he lay down 
 again. A moment or two later he was surprised to find 
 that he felt more composed, distinctly drowsy, in fact. He 
 correctly attributed this to the whisky, and he lay very 
 still in the hope that natural sleep would at last come 
 upon him. This might have been the case, but he was 
 aroused by a rough hand on his foot. 
 
 "Come on there, my man; come on," said a command- 
 ing voice. 
 
THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 155 
 
 "You want me, then, do you?" responded Litizki, sit- 
 ting up quickly and bumping his head against the deck. 
 
 "Save the ship, man, " remarked the voice, jocosely, 
 "and it will be better for your head. That deck's made of 
 iron. Let me see your ticket." 
 
 So it was not a policeman. Litizki showed his ticket, 
 and the purser's assistant passed on. It must be ap- 
 proaching the hour of departure. The tailor, fully aroused, 
 wished that his neighbor would offer him more liquor. 
 
 "Do you think," he asked, "that I would have time to 
 go ashore and get a bottle of whisky?" 
 
 "Yes," was the facetious reply, "but you wouldn't have 
 time to get back. Never mind, partner. Have a drop of 
 this," and again the flask was passed to him. 
 
 Litizki did not lie down again immediately after drink- 
 ing. He sat crouched over with his hands about his knees, 
 wondering if Miss Hilman had received his letter. The 
 men in his compartment were chatting and laughing nois- 
 ily. The single port-hole admitted so little light that he 
 could not have distinguished the features of any of them 
 except by the closest scrutiny. The steerage steward 
 looked in. 
 
 "There's one place here, sir," he said, "that your man 
 can have." 
 
 "All right," was the reply, in a wheezy, cracked 
 voice; "take it, Billings." 
 
 The tailor started. Was not that the name of the man 
 whom Miss Hilman had mentioned as the driver of Stro- 
 bel's second carriage? Could it be that he was taking 
 flight, too? or was it a mere coincidence of names? 
 
 A young fellow, preceded by an odor of strong drink, 
 and followed by a decrepit old man, edged into the com- 
 partment. He carried a black, shiny portmanteau which 
 he threw upon the vacant bunk. 
 
 "There!" he growled, "that was heavy. Give me an- 
 other swig, Mr. Dexter." 
 
 "You shall have it, my boj T , and welcome," croaked the 
 old man, producing a flask from his pocket; "take a good, 
 
156 THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 
 
 long drink. That's it! down with it, he! he! Pleasant 
 voyage to you, Billings, my boy!" 
 
 He patted the young fellow on the shoulder ; and Bil- 
 lings, supposing that his hand was extended to take the 
 flask, turned his back, and when he had drunk, corked 
 the flask and remarked thickly: 
 
 "I'll keep it thish time." 
 
 "All right, all right," responded Dexter; "you may 
 have it now. I'm going on deck. It's too close here." 
 
 He hobbled away, and Billings staggered after him. 
 
 Full of wonder, and almost forgetting his own part in 
 the Strobel matter, Litizki descended from his bunk and 
 went up to the deck also. To his amazement, he found 
 that the Cephalonia was already a hundred yards from 
 the dock. Several conceited little tugs were puffing away 
 at stem and stern, to turn the gigantic ship about. A 
 great crowd of people were on the pier, waving hands and 
 handkerchiefs, and the salutes were frantically returned 
 by the hundreds on board who crowded close to the rail. 
 
 Billings had gone to the rail away from the shore, and 
 Dexter stood beside him, still talking with forced jocular- 
 ity, to which the young man listened with only half com- 
 pn hension. The most that his fuddled brain could recog- 
 nize was that he was on board a steamer bound for Ku 
 rope, a big enough fact in itself to subdue the ordinary 
 mind. 
 
 Litizki watched the pair with troubled curiosity. Could 
 this be the same Billings? and could his going away por- 
 tend any failure for the plan that Litizki had executed at 
 such heroic self-saorifice? It could not be possible ! The 
 guilty driver might well flee from punishment, but 
 neither his presence nor his absence could materially affect 
 the outcome. 
 
 Thinking thus, the tailor allowed his eyes to wander 
 from Billings and Dexter, taking in the sights of the ship 
 with indifferent interest Suddenly he retreated a pace, 
 and grasped a hatchway to prevent himself from sinking 
 prone upon the deck. Were all his railings against super- 
 
THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 157 
 
 stition and the supernatural but empty words? Had he 
 gone stark rnad, or was that the ghost of Poubalov lean- 
 ing negligently over the rail of the promenade deck and 
 grinning down at him in erident amusement at his con- 
 sternation? 
 
 A long cry of terror seemed to struggle for utterance in 
 Litizki's throat, but it found vent in a pitiable whine that 
 noobdy heard above the joyous cheering of the passen- 
 gers except his frightened self. He could not take his eyes 
 from that awful face, whose every feature seemed to glow 
 with perfect health. How long he stood there, gasping, 
 powerless under the terrible spell, Litizki could not have 
 told, but a complete revulsion of feeling overcame him 
 when the figure on the deck above shrugged its shoulders, 
 sneered, and strode forward out of sight. 
 
 Then Litizki knew that he had failed. 
 
 Where now was all the exaltation of heroism that had 
 sustained him? Where his devotion to Reason, that false 
 goddess whose dictates had seemed to him infallible? 
 Even in his agony of humiliation the light broke in upon 
 him, and he saw that the guiding spirit of his miserable 
 career had not been abstract, unimpeachable Reason, but a 
 base, weak imitation the lucubration of a disordered in- 
 tellect, Litizki's reason. 
 
 The unhappy man tried to think, not so much to ex- 
 plain how it had happened that the dagger had not done 
 its work, but how should he act now? There was no with- 
 drawal from the voyage already begun, and he wished 
 least of all to go ashore. Why had he so insanely thrown 
 away his revolver? The breast that had resisted a knife 
 clri ven by his feeble arm could not withstand the force of 
 a well-directed bullet. 
 
 What should he do? Would fate be once more kind, just 
 once more, and some time during the coming ten days, 
 put Poubalov in his way so that he could push the villain 
 overboard? 
 
 Whisky mounted to his brain and told him to hope. 
 He crawled up the steps to the forecastle-top whence he 
 
158 THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. 
 
 could command a view of the promenade deck throughout 
 its entire length. Poubalov was there, idly observing tho 
 passing harbor. He hardly stirred until, just after passing 
 Boston Light, the steamer's engines were stopped, and 
 with several others, ladies and gentlemen, he went to the 
 main deck. A tug came alongside, the visitors and the 
 representatives of the Cunard Company crossed tho plank, 
 and in another moment the great vessel throbbed again 
 with the revolutions of the screw that, barring acrid 
 would not oease its work until it had propelled the steamer 
 to the other side of the world. 
 
 Poubalov stood in front of the wheol-houso of the tug 
 and waved his hat to Litizki, and by the side of the spy 
 stood the decrepit old man, Dexter. 
 
THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. 
 
 When Poubalov had fallen to the floor of the car and 
 Clara was bending over him, his dark eyes shone with sav- 
 age luster as he said : 
 
 "I am not hurt, Miss Hilman, but I would I were, if I 
 could thereby gain your sympathy." 
 
 "Not hurt!" she repeated aghast at the spectacle he 
 presented, and unable to credit his words. He lay flat on 
 his back, and protruding upward from his closely-but- 
 toned coat was the dagger. It looked as if half the length 
 of the blade had been buried in his body. 
 
 The passengers gathered about, horrified and excited, 
 while the man whom they supposed to be dying, sat up in 
 the aisle and deliberately wrenched the blade from his 
 bosom. 
 
 "See, "he said holding it aloft where nearly everybody 
 could observe it, "the point is badly blunted, and I shall 
 have to grind ifi down, but there is no blood upon it!" 
 
 Then he laughed quietly, sprang to his feet, and with 
 strong arms helped Clara back to her chair. She was ter- 
 ribly shocked by the episode, for Litizki's melancholy 
 meditations rushed back upon her, and she seemed again 
 to hear him promising yet to do something for her that 
 should be of great service. And this was it! 
 
 She did not then realize that it was a remark of her own 
 that had inspired his mad brain to action, and it was well 
 that she did not, for it was enough that she should suffer 
 as she did, accusing herself of failing to foresee what 
 would happen if the little tailor were permitted to go on 
 tormenting himself with the mystery, and indulging his 
 immeasurable hatred of Poubalov. How could she have 
 
I 
 
 160 THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. 
 
 been so selfish, she thought, as to encourage the unfortu- 
 nate man to devote his life to her purpose, and to ar< 
 such devotion that he was carried by it to the very c 
 mission of murder? She shuddered as the word occurred to 
 her, and the looked appealingly at Pouhalov, as if to s 
 from him some further assurance that the miracle had 
 curred to avert the tragedy that Litizki had planned. 
 
 "It is absolutely nothing, Miss Hilman,'' said tin- spy, 
 interpreting her glance correctly, "save a hole in my . 
 and the probahle perforation of some interesting doeu- 
 ments. I will show you." 
 
 Having just placed her in the chair, he was bending 
 over her as he spoke, and now he stood erect, and win! 
 the pns>i niters looked on ama/ed, ho unbuttoned his 
 and drew from the- broast pocket alar ; In r wallet 
 
 filled with papers. 
 
 "I wear no armor," ho said, smiling as he laid the c 
 ger on the window ledge, that he might use both hands in 
 >h<>\ving how ho had escaped. One side of the wallet had 
 the mark of the knife, a gash clean cut in the. L-ath 
 denee sullieient that the blow had fallen with all the f 
 that Liti/ki could command. Opening tho wallet, In- i 
 out several folded papers, showing without revealing their 
 nature, that tho blade had pierced them. At last he drew 
 forth a little copper plate, and held it up to the light. 
 
 14 Yes," he said, "that finished it. Tho wallet itself \ 
 almost sullirimit to save me, but without this plate I think 
 I should have been scratched a bit. I had this plate (Mi- 
 graved a short time ago in New York, as I wished to ] /re- 
 sent my card with my name printed in characters that 
 would be intelligible to English-speaking people. Tho en- 
 graver gave mo the plate, of course, when he delivered 
 my cards, and at the moment I put it here for conven- 
 ience. I had forgotten all about it. You see," handing the 
 plate to a gentleman who stood beside him, "my friend 
 managed to erase my name but he left me my life." 
 
 "You are to be congratulated," exclaimed the gentle- 
 man, returning the plate after a vain attempt to decipher 
 
THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. 161 
 
 the name. The point of the dagger had completely obliter- 
 ated several letters and scratched most of the rest. 
 
 Clara sat during this with her handkerchief to her lips, 
 trying to recover her mental poise, and concentrating 
 her mind on the fact that a tragedy had not taken place. 
 The train rolled slowly into the station, and the passen- 
 gers were speedily occupied with escaping from their con- 
 finement. One officious gentleman remarked to Poubalov : 
 
 "You will, of course, report this matter to the police? I 
 shall be pleased to give you my card if you require a wit- 
 ness, although I was in the wash-room at the time you 
 were struck down." 
 
 "Thank you," responded Poubalov, with a grave 
 smile, "I shall not require your card, as I have no com- 
 plaint to make." 
 
 "What!" blustered the passenger, "you won't have your 
 assailant arrested? Such a man ought not to be at large." 
 
 "The railroad officials may take that view of it if they 
 choose, " said the spy, calmly; "I have no desire in the 
 matter." 
 
 Amazed and indignant, the officious passenger hunted 
 up an official of the company, and having insisted on a 
 thorough investigation of the attempted murder, went 
 home complacent in that he had done his duty as a citizen. 
 The train-men, of course, reported what they knew of the 
 occurrence to their chief, but the assailant had leaped 
 from the train, the name of the victim was not known, 
 and the result was a lame account of the episode at the 
 nearest police station late in the evening. The police had 
 nothing to work upon, and, therefore, said nothing of it to 
 the reporters when they made their regular calls at the 
 station ; and when at last, very late at night, a reporter to 
 whose ears an exaggerated rumor had come, telephoned 
 for corroboration, the sergeant in charge could only say 
 that something of the kind had occurred ; and thus it came 
 about that one enterprising newspaper had an excusably 
 imperfect report of the occurrence. 
 
 Clara would have left the train without Poubalov's as- 
 
JfJ'J THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. 
 
 ,-ince, but he took her arm in his, caught up her hard- 
 liair, and helped her to the platform, in spitu of her 
 Still suffering from the shock, she realized by the close 
 , contact with him how masterful was his influence, and 
 how by force of character alone he must accomplish quite 
 as much in his unattractive employment as by intrigue 
 and deceit. 
 
 "I thank you/ ' she said faintly when she stood upon 
 the platform; "I can go alone quite well now. I cannot 
 tell you how glad I am that you escaped. I should 1 
 felt guilty if anything serious had happened, and I feel 
 to blame for what has occurred." 
 
 "You mustn't borrow trouble that way, Miss Ililman," 
 responded, gallantly; "the sanest man might well leap 
 to folly if he imagined that you wished him to." 
 
 "It pains mo to have you make light of it," said Clara; 
 "I assure you that I have quite reco\ 
 
 "Yon win permit me to hand yon to a carriage, M 
 Hilman? I will not intrude further, believe m> 
 
 Sh< nodded assent, and they were about to proceed along 
 the platform when Poubalov stepped squaroly in front of 
 her. 
 
 "Pardon me," he said earnestly, "if I do not go as far 
 oven as the carriage. I have not j r ot had opportunity to 
 say what I called to tell you about Wednesday evening, or 
 to explain why I loft your house so abruptly and inform 
 ally. I shall call to-morrow to complete my errand. I do 
 not ask your permission to call, as what I would say is im- 
 portant, and you will want to hear it. This way, cabby! 
 take care of this lady. Till to-morrow, Mi-s Hilmnn." 
 He had moved about slightly as he spoke and now d;n 
 away with quick strides. By standing in front of her and 
 moving as he did, ho had completely concealed from her 
 view the driver, Billings, who was walking rapidly down 
 the platform and who passed close by them. 
 
 Mystified as usual by his strange conduct, but relieved 
 that he was gone, Clara followed the cabman and in duo 
 time arrived safely at home. She went to bed at once, tell 
 
THE LITTLE FRONT EOOM. 163 
 
 ing her cousin enough of what had occuned to show that 
 she had endured a strain. Louise sat in her room until late 
 at night, but Clara slept peacefully to all appearances, 
 and seemed to require no watching. In the early morning 
 Litizki's letter arrived, and a servant took it to Clara's 
 room. She read it before dressing. 
 
 While it recalled the shudders with which she had 
 viewed the possibilities of Litizki's crime, and made her 
 conscientious soul more sensible of what she deemed her 
 responsibility in the matter, it nevertheless awakened 
 hope afresh in her heart. Litizki was so positive in his be- 
 lief that Ivan was confined in Poubalov's lodging-house, 
 that she was well nigh convinced by his assurances, crazy 
 though his brain undoubtedly was ; but there were Pouba- 
 lov's own utterances on that night when the little tailor 
 had started to open the door to the hall room. They were 
 not direct, but was ever Poubalov direct save when tell- 
 ing a straightforward lie? He had prevented Litizki from 
 opening that door, and were not his ambiguous words sus- 
 ceptible of the interpretation that Ivan was, as Litizki 
 had said, confined there, bound and gagged? 
 
 She read and reread again the parts of the letter that 
 had reference to this clew, and decided that it would be 
 wrong not to act upon Litizki's suggestions. She was re- 
 solved that nothing she would do should be calculated to 
 precipitate another tragedy, but rescue her lover she 
 must, and she set herself to thinking how it oould be done. 
 
 Wherj she was dressed, she went to her cousin's room, 
 and Louise was surprised to be awakened by Clara, who 
 looked none the worse for her extraordinary adventures. 
 
 "I'm not going to ask you how you are this morning," 
 said Louise, with mock resentment; "I couldn't look as 
 well as you do if I employed a trained nurse the year 
 
 round." 
 
 "Perhaps I look better than I feel, dear, " responded 
 Clara; "but I confess that, in spite of everything, I do 
 feel hopeful. Here is a sad letter from poor Litizki. Read. 
 
164 THE LITTLE FlLOXT ROOM. 
 
 it, and tell rue if, underneath all his terrible madness, 
 there is not some ground for hope." 
 
 Louise read with awe-struck attention, and laid the long 
 letter down with a shudder of horror. 
 
 "How dreadful!" she exclaimed under her breath, "and 
 yet with what perfect clearness he expresses himself! Xo 
 rambling, few repetitions, everything directly to tln i point 
 as he sees it." 
 
 "That is the way it impresses me. Litizki was not all 
 mad. Would it not be madness in us to ignore his infor- 
 mation?" 
 
 "Indeed it would! what will you do?" 
 
 "Do you know Paul Palovna's address?" 
 
 "No, but Ralph would.'" 
 
 "I shall write a note to Paul. Got right up, please, and 
 write to Ralph, telling him to see that my note reaches 
 Paul as soon as possible. Of course, we cannot follow poor 
 Litizki's plan, for he believed that he had killed Pouba- 
 lov. How he must suffer ! But wo can investigate his the- 
 ory, at all events, in our own way." 
 
 The letters they wrote were taken to Ralph Harmon by 
 a servant, and shortly before noon Paul appeared at Mr. 
 Pembroke's house, in answer to Clara's summons. Her 
 uncle had returned to Boston as he had planned, but he 
 had sent word that he should not be able to come home 
 until some time in the evening. So, again, Clara was 
 thrown upon her own resources for guidance and action. 
 
 Clara went over the whole situation with Paul, who ex- 
 pressed his regret that she had not sooner called upon him 
 for asssistance. 
 
 "Not," he said, "that I could have done anything bet- 
 ter than you have, but that I should have liked to help." 
 
 "Events have happened too rapidly," she replied, "to 
 make it possible for me to think of more than each episode 
 as it occurred. I don't want you to take a step in this if it 
 is to be at the cost of the slightest danger to yourself." 
 
 "There is no danger," said Paul; "I do not underrate 
 Poubalov's capacity for evil, but he has no reason to work 
 
THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. 165 
 
 against rue. I doubt if he would recognize me, though he 
 probably knows my name as that of Strobel's most inti- 
 mate friend. As I understand it, you wish me to make a 
 thorough investigation of Poubalov's house." 
 
 "Yes, it should have been done days ago, and I would 
 have seen to it had Litizki told me of his experience 
 there. 1 ' 
 
 "It will be very simple. I will go there to look for 
 rooms. Even if he should be there, and see me, he cannot 
 well prevent me from going through the house. I will re- 
 port to you before the day is over." 
 
 Clara had not shown Litizki's letter to Paul, but she told 
 him enough about it and its contents to convince him that 
 the tailor had been on the right track. He was in feverish 
 haste to get downtown and effect a solution of the mys- 
 tery at once, and he more than half believed that he 
 should succeed. 
 
 His hope that Poubalov would not be in at the time of 
 his call was realized, of course, for the spy was at that 
 time on his way up the harbor after bidding the Cephalo- 
 nia bon voyage. A scrubwoman answered his ring at 32 
 Bulfinch Place and left him standing in the hall while she 
 went for the landlady. 
 
 Paul had observed that tho window just over the door 
 was concealed by the blinds, whereas every other window 
 on the front of the house was fully exposed. 
 
 "I have several rooms vacant," said the landlady as she 
 came jingling a bunch of keys from a back room. She was 
 a stout, good-humored-looking woman whose pleasant 
 face, a little hardened by business dealings, perhaps, did 
 not suggest the duplicity that would be essential to an al- 
 liance with such a man as Poubalov. "What kind of a 
 room do you want?" 
 
 Paul thought he would look at them all. 
 "I don't mind the price so much," he said, "as the way 
 the room strikes me." 
 
 "Well," responded the landlady with a sigh, "if you 
 
106 THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. 
 
 want a five-dollar room, I'd like to save climbing stairs to 
 show those at two dollars. Come on." 
 
 "There's a room for five," she said, opening the door of 
 the back room up one flight. It was the room adjoinin.ir 
 that occupied by Poubalov. "The others on this floor an> 
 occupied." 
 
 "This little front room, too?" asked Paul, his hand on 
 the door. Ho had quietly tried it and found it locked b-. 
 fore she answered in the affirmative and started up tlio 
 next flight. 
 
 They looked at every room in the house above the sec 
 ond floor. Some of them were occupied, but the landlady 
 opened the doors and looked in. Paul noticed that the only 
 locked door was the one to the front hall room next to 
 Poubalov's. 
 
 " Well," said the landlady at last as they stood on the 
 landing beside Poubalov's door, "do you see anything you 
 Jike?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Paul, "I'll take this back room," and 
 ho took a five-dollar bill from his pocket and gave it to 
 her. Ho said ho would occupy the room at once, and tho 
 landlady gave him a house key. 
 
 While this transaction was in progress, a young woman 
 came up the stairs, humming a tune with that noncha- 
 lance that indicates familiarity with one's surroundings, 
 opened the door of the little front room with a key she. 
 took from her purso, and went in, leaving the door open 
 until she had thrown back the blinds. 
 
 "She's been with me a year and a half," remarked the 
 landlady, complacently, "and I don't believe you could 
 hire her to occupy any other room." 
 
WHAT PA UL PALOVNA SA W. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 WHAT PAUL PALOVNA SAW. 
 
 Paul was not disheartened by his discovery, or by the 
 landlady's comment. He believed that she was telling the 
 truth, and that th door that Litizki supposed to commu- 
 nicate with the little front room really opened into a huge 
 closet, a convenience with which the old-fashioned house 
 abounded. He had paid a week's rent, and he determined 
 to get some good out of it. Accordingly, he returned to 
 his regular quarters, and packed a bag with personal ef- 
 fects, as if he were going upon a journey. This he took 
 down to the room in Bulfinch Place. He saw the landlady 
 again as he entered. 
 
 "By the way, " he said, "is there any communication 
 between my room and the one in front?" 
 
 "No," she replied; "there's a door there that was put in 
 years ago when a family occupied the whole of that floor, 
 but it is nailed up. It won't open from either side, so you 
 needn't be afraid. There's a very quiet gentleman in the 
 front room, so you won't be disturbed." 
 
 "All right, thanks, " responded Paul, thinking that in 
 due time he might make good use of the landlady's pro- 
 clivity for gossip. He went to his room and studied the 
 disused door attentively. There was a keyhole, but it 
 was securely plugged. He lay upon the floor and peered 
 under, but the door came close down upon the threshold, 
 and nothing was to be seen. 
 
 "It's a disagreeable expedient," he muttered, "but the 
 end justifies the means in this case. I won't say anything 
 to Miss Hilman about it, though." 
 
 He opened his bag and took out a gimlet that he had 
 bought on the way to his permanent room. Then he drew 
 
108 \Y11AT PAUL PALOVNA SAW. 
 
 a chair to the door, stood upon it, and began to bore, start- 
 ing at a level with his eyes, and slanting slightly down- 
 ward. His notion was that Poubalov would not bo 
 likely to observe the tiny hole if it were a foot <>r 
 above his head as if it were lower. For the same- 
 he bored very close to the edge of a panel, and he t 
 great care not to lot the gimlet more than pierce tbo 
 further side of the wood. It would never do to let any 
 fresh dust show on the carpet in Poubalov's room. 
 
 After frequent experiments, to observe how fur ho had 
 penetrated, he found that he could faintly discern the 
 li^ht from Pouablov's windows when he placed his 
 close to the door and shaded it with his hands. Then he 
 took a rusty nail that he pulled from the wall of his 
 closefc, and, working it patiently with his fingers, pusln-d it 
 through the partially-bored hole until half its length must 
 have protruded into tho other room. A little more efl'nrt 
 and he could put the nail in place and withdraw it with* 
 out the slightest noise. Among the trifles that had accu- 
 mulated in his possessions was an untrained lithograph rep- 
 resenting cupids throwing flowers as big as the? 
 at one another. He could hardly remember how he caino 
 tv) have it; some young lady sent it to him, probably, as 
 long ago as last Valentine's Day; but there it was. with a 
 neat little card attached; and he hung it on the nail t 
 cuse hi* operation should the landlady happen to notice 
 it. There were plenty of hooks in the room, but lu- would 
 tell her that it was his fancy to embellish tho door. 
 
 4 'There, "he thought, as he contemplated his finished 
 work, "if our spy is not more observing and suspicions 
 than I think he is, I shall bo able to take a look at him oc- 
 casionally." 
 
 Having carefully cleaned np the slight litter he had 
 made, he locked the door of his room and went to make 
 his report to Clara. 
 
 He told her frankly that he believed Litizki had It- 
 mistaken about the little front room. "But," he added, "I 
 have taken the back room for a week, and I shall be sur 
 
WHA T PAUL PALO VNA SA W. 169 
 
 prised if I do not- make some discovery before my time is 
 up." 
 
 Intent upon being on the ground, where he could watch 
 every movement of Poubalov, he hurried back to Bulfinch 
 Place, and sat himself down to pass time with books un- 
 til the spy should come in. 
 
 All day long Clara heeded her uncle's injunction to rest, 
 but that was because there was nothing she could do. 
 Moreover, she expected Poubalov, and she was more than 
 anxious to be at home to receive him. He came about five 
 o'clock. The young ladies were refreshing themselves 
 with tea, and Louise, who never ceased fco be amazed at 
 her cousin's proceedings, almost gasped when she saw 
 Clara greet him cordially and hasten to get a cup for him. 
 
 One would not have expected Poubalov to show fatigue, 
 if he ever felt it, but if he were not weary on this occa- 
 sion, something had occurred to disturb him. His eyes 
 were heavy, his accent harder to understand than usual, 
 and it was not until several minutes had passed, and he 
 had drank freely of tea, that he spoke with anything like 
 his customary masterful confidence. Clara led the conversa- 
 tion at the start. After the first greetings she referred to 
 the episode in the car, saying : 
 
 "I should have thought you would suffer as I did from 
 the shock of that terrible assault. It was dreadful to look 
 at, and how much more dreadful to be the intended vic- 
 tim." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Miss Hilman," responded the spy; 
 "tlie very shock of the blow convinced me that I was un- 
 harmed. There was therefore no more occasion for alarm 
 on my part than as if a book had fallen from the rack 
 upon my head." 
 
 "But, really, I supposed the worst had happened, " in- 
 sisted Clara, "for you not only fell but you gasped " 
 
 "Naturally. To put it roughly, the fellow knocked the 
 breath out of me." 
 
 "And have you heard nothing of Litizki?" 
 
 Poubalov looked at her gravely as he answered : 
 
170 I I HAT PA UL PALO VNA SA W. 
 
 "I have seen him." 
 
 "Seen him!" echoed both his listeners, and "whore?" 
 asked Clara. 
 
 "He was not under arrest, " answered Poubalov; "he 
 was free, as free as he ever will be with the memory of 
 the recent past to haunt him, as it certainly will. You 
 will never see him again" he raised his hand depre 
 ingly ; "pardon me, I did not mean to suggest the slight- 
 est discomfort. He has not committed suicide, and I do 
 not know that he contemplates it." 
 
 He turned his attention to his tea, and both young la- 
 (lit-s wore silent for a moment. Then Louiso found an ex- 
 cuse for withdrawing, and Clara was left alone with the 
 inscrutable foe to her happiness. There was a marked 
 pause after Louise had gone, Clara waiting for Poubalov, 
 and the spy who can tell what was coursing through his 
 mind? At length he set down his cup, and with nn at- 
 tempt at the aggressive self-possession that usually char- 
 acterized his demeanor, he said : 
 
 "I owe you an explanation, Miss Hilman." 
 
 "Only one?" sho asked coldly, but there was a strange 
 smilo on her face. 
 
 "Many," responded the spy, and there was an expres- 
 sion on his features, in his bearing, in the tones of his 
 voice, that, but for the circumstances, might have been 
 litod to sincerity. He was either not his usual self, or 
 he was playing i\ much deeper game than any he had y-t 
 revealed. "Many," he repeated, "and they will all be 
 inadn in dun timo. Do you see that I honor you in the 
 hiL'lu'st way that is possible for me? I mean by not treat- 
 ing you to the customary forms of courtesy which are the 
 iMtiiv or less transparent garments of falsehood. I do not 
 come here with a plausible story to account for my con- 
 duct, asking you to accept it as an apology whether you 
 b-lieve it, or not. I tell you the truth, so far as I speak at 
 all ; and when the nature of the case would compel me to 
 lie if I opened my lips, I am silent." 
 
 "Or you evade the question," interposed Clara, and 
 
WHA T PA UL PAL VNA SA W. Ill 
 
 again she smiled provokingly, but there was no invitation 
 to feel at ease in her expression. Poubalov did not mis- 
 interpret it, and it almost seemed as if he, the master 
 mind, were discomposed. 
 
 "Perhaps I do," he admitted after a moment; "my 
 habits of speech are not such as conduce to absolute candor 
 even with you, whom I respect too highly to consciously 
 deceive. Tell me, Miss Hilman, will you not, can you not 
 believe that I tell you the truth?" 
 
 "I have thought about it a great deal," replied Clara 
 steadily, "and sometimes I almost think you do; but, you 
 know, you have really had very little conversation with 
 
 me." 
 
 "True enough, ard I must confess that I never found 
 it so hard to take my part in a conversation as I do at 
 this minute. I usually lead it, I may say dominate it," 
 and he smiled a little ; "usually, you see, I make people, 
 men and women, believe me. I would beg you to, Miss 
 Hilman, if only I knew how." 
 
 "Why try to compel me to stand on the same plane as 
 you do?" asked Clara; "you confess your tabits of deceit. 
 How can I promise to believe you without confessing that, 
 for this moment at least, I accept your own style of inter- 
 course?" 
 
 "You are an invincible logician, Miss Hilman," ex- 
 claimed Poubalov, compressing his lips. "I give up, and 
 will let my words stand or fall on their merits, according 
 as you judge them, I came here on Wednesday evening to 
 tell you some things I had discovered. The man Billings 
 called before I had begun to speak. I departed unceremo- 
 niously, because I did not wish to meet him." 
 
 "I know that," said Clara, simply. "I knew it at the 
 time." 
 
 "Of course you did, " responded Poubalov, crestfallen; 
 "you could not infer otherwise, and my confession has all 
 the appearance, therefore, of a pitiably weak attempt to 
 bolster up my claim to veracity." 
 
 "I do not interpret it that way. I can make my own test 
 
172 II HAT PAUL PALOVNA SAW. 
 
 of your veracity. I shall listen to whatever J T OU have to 
 say, without reference to what you call a confession." 
 
 "Well, then," resumed tho spy, speaking rapidly, "thia 
 . is what I came to saj r . I had made investigations in my 
 own way along the lines of the theory laid down with re* 
 spect to the possible operations of Nihilists against Mr. 
 Strobel. I caught Litizki shadowing me, and recognized 
 him as one with whom I had come in official contact ?n 
 Kussia. It seemed to me child's play to deal with him, 
 for I had no respect for his intellect. I supposed at fir>t 
 that he was tracking me as the agent of a Nihilistic soci- 
 ety. Then I learned that he was devoted to Strobel. I 
 knew he would come to see me, but not openly. So I sat 
 np for him, and lie crept into the house like a thief. Wo 
 had a conversation that I will not pause to detail. I did my 
 best to impress him with my power, and then let him go 
 away, for I wanted him to be at large, and I did not want 
 him just then to report to you what I had told him. You 
 see, I purposely allowed him to nurse his suspicions of 
 me. Next day I called at his shop, my solo purpose being 
 to learn who his associates were, and to endeavor to fa 
 upon them the taking off of Strobel. Among the men in 
 his shop was one Boris Vargovitch, at one time somewhat 
 of a leader among the Nihilists. The rest that I was going 
 1" say on that evening I do not need to say now, for I have 
 since become convinced that Litizki was acting irrespon- 
 sibly in pursuing me, and that if Nihilists were active, he 
 was not in thoir confidence. Furthermore, I am now con- 
 vinced that neither Vargovitch nor any other former Ni- 
 hilist in Boston was concerned in the Strobel matter. I 
 was mistaken in supposing that the Nihilists continued 
 their close organization in this country. They may send 
 revolutionary literature to Russia, but they do not keep 
 up active operations here. I withdraw my innuendoes 
 against them, therefore, and have to confess that you are 
 now just as far along in your painful search as you were 
 five days ago." 
 
 Clara was deeply impressed by this narration. She could 
 
WHAT PAUL PALOVNA SAW. 173 
 
 see no flaw in it, no evidence of untruthfnlness. But there 
 was a touch of evasion in the conclusion, and she re- 
 marked with merciless coolness: 
 
 "You do not say that we are as far along as five days 
 ago. You confine the lack of progress to me." 
 
 There was a hasty glance from the spy that looked like 
 apprehension. 
 
 "Of course, I catch the significance of your words," he 
 said; "you think I know more than I tell, that I insti- 
 gated the abduction of Strobel. " 
 
 "Tell me," she said, looking straight into his eyes, 
 "why did you not wish to meet Billings?" 
 
 He hesitated, and the color rose slowly to his cheeks. 
 
 "No," he answered, "not now. I have said all I can for 
 the present. I am still pursuing this matter, Miss Hilman, 
 but I must put off further information. I would ask you 
 to trust me to report faithfully to you but that it is such a 
 farce for two persons like you and me to bandy words." 
 
 "It is a cruel farce," she exclaimed, rising indignantly; 
 "you pretend to help me and you laboriously tell me 
 things I already know." 
 
 She walked across the room, and her brain struggled for 
 a plan in the confusion of impulses, hopes and fears. What 
 might Paul accomplish? Would she not surely lose a pos- 
 sible point by dismissing the spy once and for all, and 
 might she not some day gain much by keeping in some sort 
 of communication with him? This was the policy she had 
 determined upon, and she would adhere to it. So she 
 turned and faced him. He had risen, waiting her word of 
 dismissal or encouragement. 
 
 "I will give you one more opportunity to tell me the 
 whole truth and make amends," she said sternly; "1 be- 
 lieve what you have told me to-night. Next time I must 
 have all, and nothing short of it. Will you come to-mor- 
 row?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Hilman, in the evening." 
 
 He bowed gravely and left the house. 
 
 Paul did not venture to go to dinner when evening 
 
174 WHAT PA UL PALO VNA SA W. 
 
 came. He read on and on, waiting to hear Pouablov outer 
 the adjoining room. It was late in the evening when at 
 last he heard the door open and close, and he knew that 
 the spy was at home. 
 
 Then Paul laid down his book and stepped cautiously 
 upon the chair by the door. He carefully drew out the 
 nail and applied his eye to the hole. He commanded a 
 view of the verj r center of Poubalov's room. 
 
 The spy-had thrown himself into a chair, and was sit- 
 ting as if deeply wrapped in thought. There were wrinkles 
 in his brow and his lips were set close together. 
 
 After a few moments thus, he took his traveling bag 
 from the bureau and unlocked it. Having fumbled over 
 the contents, he drew forth a cabinet photograph that he 
 took directly under the chandelier whore the light was 
 strongest. His back was partially turned to Paul, and he 
 held the card so that the observer at the nail hole could 
 see it distinctly. 
 
 With a shock of surprise Paul recognized it as a picture 
 of Clara Hilman. 
 
 Poubalov gazed long and earnestly at it and then 
 touched it reverently to his lips. 
 
POUBALOV'S REVOLUTION. 175 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 POUBALOV'S REVOLUTION. 
 
 Paul's heart seemed to stand still as he reflected on Pou. 
 balov'sact. The original purpose of the spy in calling upon 
 Strobel and instigating his abduction, was as much a mys- 
 tery as ever, but it was one that could be explained on the 
 ground of Poubalov's confessed relations with the gov- 
 ernment with which Strobel had been in conflict. There 
 was nothing personal in that ; but here was an element of 
 personal relationship that might lead to worse than com- 
 plications. 
 
 Poubalov in love no ! not that sacred word ; infatuated, 
 rather, with Clara Hilman. 
 
 What hope could there now be that the spy, having 
 some day accomplished the purpose for which he had 
 crossed the ocean to find Strobel, would set him free? In 
 the very hopelessness of his passion would he not first 
 murder Strobel, and then Clara herself? Paul felt sick 
 with horror as the possibility of these tragedies occurred 
 to his mind. They were more than possible. With Pouba- 
 lov's character in view, they seemed like certainties. 
 What could be done to avert them? What would Clara 
 say? How revolting, more than terrifying, would be the 
 revelation that this subtle, conscienceless foe had dared to 
 love her! 
 
 At first blush Paul felt that he could not tell Clara what 
 he had seen. If there were only something that he himself 
 could do to solve the mystery of Ivan's disappearance, for 
 only Strobel's presence in perfect health could serve to 
 check the spy's villainous course. He held absolute com- 
 mand of the situation as long as he succeeded in keeping 
 Strobel in hiding. As the sense of his helplessness grew 
 
176 POUBALOrS BEVOLUTION. 
 
 upon him, like an insidious vine whose twining tendrils 
 choke the growth of a sapling, Paul wondered that ; 
 Litizki's devotion had not the sooner driven him to i 
 ness. 
 
 He saw that, with all its evils, the situation must be 
 made clear to Clara. He would continue his observat 
 during the next forenoon, and then report to her. 
 
 Poubalov had said that he -would call in the eveni: 
 Clara, therefore, in the early afternoon wont to see Mrs. 
 White. She went with no purpose of accomplishing any- 
 thing in the mystery, but rather as an act of kind? 
 report how she had found Lizzie; but as she was about to 
 turn into Ashburton Place, she saw Paul at the foot of 
 the hill and she waited for him to come up. He had just 
 started for Roxbury. 
 
 "I have something to tell, "he said in answer to her 
 anxious look of inquiry, "but I fear it is nothing that will 
 be helpful, and it will certainly be disagreeable." 
 
 "I was going to call on Mrs. White/' responded Clara; 
 "suppose you go with me; but you can toll mo what you 
 have discovered before we go in." 
 
 "If you think best," and Paul hesitai. 1. 
 
 "1 do. Have no fear of me. Have I not learned to endure 
 anything that can happen?" 
 
 "Poubalov loves you, Miss Hilman." 
 
 Clara blushed vory faintly, looked straight into Paul's 
 eyes for an instant, then off at the house-tops, and an- 
 B wared: 
 
 "I felt it. How aid you find out?" 
 
 Amazed and relieved, Paul told her. 
 
 "I have made myself a spy," he concluded, "but I felt 
 that the circumstances justified me." 
 
 "So 1 think, too," rejoined Clara. "Well, let us go on. I 
 don't know at this moment how to act, but I cannot help 
 thinking that this will bring matters to a crisis, and I 
 hope, in spite of reason and fears, that it will end hap- 
 pily. I wonder where Poubalov got my photograph." 
 
 Then she remembnvtl that when the reporter, Shaugh- 
 
POUBALOV'S REVOLUTION. 177 
 
 nessey, had returned her photograph, it had been placed 
 for the moment upon the mantel in the drawing-room. 
 The next day she had looked for it, and, not finding it at 
 once, had supposed that Louise or a servant had put it 
 away. In the stress of events she had thought no more 
 about it; but Poubalov's call and bareheaded flight had 
 occurred after the return of the photograph, and the natu- 
 ral, and satisfactory explanation, therefore, was that he 
 had stolen it. 
 
 "There is one more thing, " added Paul as they walked 
 along, "and I suppose it shows that in order to circumvent 
 this man one must have sleepless eyes and untiring vigi- 
 lance. As soon as Poubalov went to bed last night, I hur- 
 ried out and got supper. It didn't take me long, for I was 
 anxious to get to sleep, so that I might get up early 
 enough this morning to keep track of him. I rose before 
 six, and took a preliminary peep through my nail hole. 
 Poubalov had gone, and up to just now, when I left, had 
 not returned." 
 
 "I think there is nothing lost," said Clara; "he is to call 
 on me this evening, and your discovery makes it certain 
 that he will come. If you will come out to the house ahead 
 of him, I should like it ever so much if you would follow 
 him when he goes away." 
 
 They were at Mrs. White's door, and Paul preferred 
 not to go in. There was nothing more to be said, and it 
 seemed better that he should return to Bulfinch Place, to 
 observe Poubalov's doings, should he return. 
 
 Mrs. White, comparatively free from anxiety about her 
 daughter, seemed more than desirous of talking about 
 Mr. Strobel. 
 
 " I had a letter from Lizzie last night," she said, "and 
 she told me how kind you were. I'm real glad you went 
 to see her. 'cause it must make you feel so much more sat- 
 isfied to know that Mr. Strobel did not run away with her.' 
 And you know, Miss Hilman, I can't quite think that the 
 dark gentleman, Mr. Pou something, has anything to 
 do with it. He seems such a perfect gentleman." 
 
178 POUBALOVS REVOLUTION. 
 
 "It is very hard to understand it all," responded Clara; 
 "but what makes you think Poubalov is better than we 
 have thought him?" 
 
 "Two or three things. Lizzie wrote mo that he called to 
 see her just after you had gone away, and she says he 
 seemed real earnest about trying to find Mr. Strobel, and 
 was just as polite as could be." 
 
 "Doesn't she say anything more about his call than 
 that?" 
 
 "No, except that he spoke very kindly, and didn't let 
 her think that he had suspected her of anything wrong." 
 
 "I should say not, " remarked Clara, rather bitterly; 
 "no one would know better than he that Lizzie was not 
 concerned in the affair." 
 
 "I don't see why, Miss Hilman. Why shouldn't he think 
 what other people thought? I'm afraid he did, for last 
 Thursday evening he called here, and we had a real good 
 talk about it. He seemed " 
 
 "Did you tell him I had gone to New York?" inter- 
 rupted Clara, sharply, for she was impatient with these 
 ingenuous statements of what Poubalov seemed to be. 
 
 "Land sakes, no!" replied Mrs. White, "but he told me 
 he was going on, and when he suggested so kindly that he 
 would look up Lizzie, and let me know how she was situ- 
 ated, I was glad to give him her address. He hasn't been 
 here since, though. Perhaps he hasn't got back yet." 
 
 Clara wondered wearily how stupidity should manage to 
 flourish in a world where people have to struggle so hard 
 against one another, and then she immediately reproached 
 herself for the thought, recalling what a taxing puzzle 
 Poubalov's character presented to herself. She made no 
 effort to undeceive Mrs. White how could she with so 
 little as she herself actually knew? but rather turned the 
 conversation into simple channels until she took her de- 
 parture. 
 
 Paul arrived at Mr. Pembroke's about six o'clock, re- 
 porting that Poubalov had been absent all day until late 
 
POUBALOV'S REVOLUTION. 179 
 
 in the afternoon, and that when he came in he immedi- 
 ately began preparations for going out again. 
 
 "I came along at once," said Paul, '"'lest he should get 
 here ahead of me." 
 
 Clara asked her uncle if he would like to meet the spy. 
 
 "No, ' he answered uneasily; "what good purpose 
 would it serve?'* 
 
 f 'I. thought that perhaps you might read him better 
 than I can," said Clara; "I don't see how we can help 
 coming to a crisis this evening, and if you could help, 
 we might bring about the release of Ivan all the sooner." 
 
 Mr. Pembroke was careworn, and all his utterances and 
 actions had been marked by indecision since his return 
 from New York. 
 
 "I am afraid I can do no good," he said with a sigh; 
 "handle the situation as best you can, Clara. I believe 
 you will find your happiness restored to you shortly." 
 
 With that he shut himself in his library, and they saw 
 no more of him that night. 
 
 Poubalov acted more like himself than he did the day 
 before, but it was apparent to Clara that his confident 
 self-possession was maintained by an effort. 
 
 "Must we begin where we left off yesterday?'' he said 
 by way of introduction. 
 
 "You may begin where you please, ' responded Clara, 
 "but you must tell me the truth. I think you are going 
 to GO so, Mr. Poubalov." 
 
 "I cannot remember that I have told you a single lie 
 since I met you, Miss Hilman. It must be a strange admis- 
 sion for you to hear me make, that I am not certain when 
 I have spoken truly and when falsely ; but that is the 
 fault of the peculiar work that my emperor has set me to 
 do, and it is not due in the present instance to any pur- 
 pose of deceiving you. I am going to begin by telling you 
 of a discovery that I have made since I began to work on 
 this case a discovery that to me, at least, is startling. 
 
 "My experience throughout all my life has been such as 
 to make me believe that honesty and sincerity did not ex- 
 
ISO POUBALO P ,S l: /: YOU 'TION. 
 
 1st save in the characters of simple-minded people whom 
 it would be too harsh to call fools, and yet who are 
 nothing short of fools when you look at thorn from the 
 point of view of self-interest and material advances 
 What have I found to be the chief requisite of leaders 
 whether in guiding the state, or seeking to wreck it, or in 
 commerce? Cr^ft, Miss Hilman, craft that and 
 
 includes indirect methods to attain ends, the holding out 
 of false hopes, the display of the gilded side of things, the 
 concealment of the base material in short, trickery, 
 which is but another name for treachery. I have believed 
 that keen minds saw the folly of what we call horn 
 and to find candor in a person of intelligence would have 
 seemed to me an anomaly. I have discovered that extra- 
 ordinary combination, Miss Hilman, and have 1 
 fled to find that my methods, however subtle, have availed 
 nothing in opposition to this unaffected, unconscious hon- 
 esty. It is a revelation to my mind that threatens to el: 
 a revolution in my convictions." 
 
 "One moment, Mr. Poubalov," interrupted Clara ; "your 
 habit of circuitous approach to a point is still strong a] 
 you, and according to your own admissions, it is out of 
 place in conversation with me. Permit me, then, to help 
 you adjust yourself to your incomplete revolution, and I 
 will do so without any clever turns of phraseology. I am, 
 then, tho embodiment of this wonderful candor that 
 liavu discovered. It would have taken you a long tin. 
 say it. I appreciate the compliment. Go on, plea 
 
 There was a suspicion of a tremor in Poubalov's voice 
 as he continued: 
 
 11 Yes, you have said it, beating me, as usual, in the one 
 part wherein I thought I was skilled. But I have to add, 
 .Miss Hilman, that having discovered the existence of hon- 
 esty associated with the highest order of intelligence, I 
 am astounded to find that I not only do not scorn and de- 
 spise it, I admire it more than that, I am conquered by 
 it; I 3 r ield to it as a serf to the will of his master, and I 
 
POUBALOV'S REVOLUTION. 181 
 
 worship her who " his voice railed him for an instant 
 and then he concluded, "you, Miss Hilnian." 
 
 Clara sat looking calmly at the spy, much as if she were 
 regarding a play in which he was an actor, or, as it seemed 
 to him, as if she were studying a strange anatomical spec- 
 imen. 
 
 "This must be a remarkable experience for you, " she 
 said simply. 
 
 "It is a marvel!" he responded with great emphasis; 
 "I, who knew only loyalty to my czar, find that there is 
 something more potent to stir me than his beck, or his re- 
 ward. 1 love, and with all the strength of my being!" 
 
 "It doesn't seem at all strange to me, 1 ' she murmured^ 
 her voice low and musical; "I have never rated you as 
 less than a human being, though at times you have seemed 
 to fall infinitely below the standard of such men as it has 
 been my good fortune to know." 
 
 Poubalov winced at this merciless thrust at his intense 
 egotism, and Clara went on : 
 
 "What I do not understand is why you should have been 
 to the mortifying pains of telling me about it, for it is a 
 farce for such persons as you and me to bandy words. Has 
 your revolution so far progressed as to convince you that 
 it is worth while to waste energy?' 
 
 "A man must speak out when he loves as I do," said 
 Poubalov, desperately. "I will not rave, as I have read 
 that lovers do; I will stick to my logic; but 1 must con- 
 fess that when I awakened to this emotion, I could not 
 help a day dream in which I saw you by my side, and the 
 sight was sweet, it was inspiring, for it cannot be often 
 that minds of such caliber as ours are brought together 
 and united for life." 
 
 "It will be better to return to your logic, Mr. Pouba- 
 lov, " said Clara, gently ; his tones were passionate in spite 
 of his evident effort, and she had no desire to lead him 
 on to a freer outburst. "Let us dismiss this experience of 
 yours, in which, of course, I share only as a disinterested 
 spectator. What have you done with the man I do love?" 
 
182 PO UBALO V'S R E VOL UTION. 
 
 Poubalov rose, and Clara expected to see him pace up 
 and down the room after the manner of her undo wh-n 
 he was agitated; but the spy stood before her trembling 
 in every limb. 
 
 "You have asked me the wrong question, Miss Hil- 
 man," he said hoarsely, "and I shall not answer it." 
 
 "Then," exclaimed Clara, "either leave me at once, or 
 proceed in your own way to tell me what I wish to know. 
 I have been days in my search, and I can listen to you 
 for the whole of this evening if it is necessary in order to 
 learn what I must know." 
 
 "Suppose I should tell you," said Poubalov, slowly, 
 "that I can lay my hands upon Strobel at any moment. 
 What would you say?" 
 
 "I should bid you to bring him to me. 1 ' 
 
 Poubalov shook his head. 
 
 "I should not do it," he said. 
 
AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 i 
 
 AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 
 
 Clara rose at this and faced her adversary, speaking 
 with intensitj r no less than his: 
 
 "It discredits your boasted intelligence," she said, "to 
 presume so much as to suggest a compromise to me. There 
 can be no middle course. You do not care that I consider 
 you an unspeakable villain, but you must see that you are 
 bound to do one thing or the other. Bring my lover to 
 me, or it would be idle boasting fco say what the alterna- 
 tive would be, but you know that I should never cease to 
 pursue you. In my own way I should certainly circum- 
 vent you some day." 
 
 "Yes, you would, I believe that; but, Miss Hilman, I 
 decline to accept your first alternative, ' ' and he strode 
 toward the door. 
 
 "Stop!" she cried, running forward and getting in his 
 way. "I told you this would be your last opportunity to 
 tell me the whole truth. You haven't told me anything 
 yet that I want to know. I meant what I said. I will not 
 have you come here again." 
 
 "Nevertheless, we shall meet again, Miss Hilman." 
 
 Poubalov now appeared imperturbable. He had con- 
 fessed to a certain weakness and defeat ; in the presence of 
 excitement and insistence he was easily the master of 
 himself and the situation. 
 
 Clara realized quickly that she had lost a point by 
 yielding even momentarily to her emotions, and she 
 strove to recover by assuming once more what Poubalov 
 called her logical position. 
 
 "You have said that you love me," she said as calmly as 
 possible; "can you ask me to believe that when you delib- 
 
AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 
 
 erately cause me the most cruel grief? Is that con- 
 With all your confessed craft, you have a certain half -re- 
 spectable consistency, for you confess to me at least, Imw 
 base you are. Will you, then, love and torture me, to 
 
 The spy became deathly pale for an instant, and then 
 answered : 
 
 44 We shall see. I have made my confession, and nothing 
 now shall swerve me from accomplishing my purpose in 
 my own way." 
 
 "Is there such a thing as love of fair play in you?" 
 asked Clara, her emotions now quelled and every instinct 
 alive once more to fencing with her adversary. 
 
 "I supposn not, except in an argument. Even then it 
 might not seem to be fair play to the party who found 
 himself overmatched." 
 
 "In your arguments with me you do not treat me with 
 the ordinary fairness of admitting me to a common 
 ground with you. You withhold facts without which I 
 cannot argue as well as I might." 
 
 "That, Miss Hilman, is because our contest is over a KM! 
 issue, not over an abstraction." 
 
 "I don't wonder that poor Litizki regarded you as a 
 fiend!" 
 
 "Therein you manifest yourself a woman. You long f<>r 
 invi-ctive, but your refinement cannot teach you how to 
 use epithets effectively." 
 
 "This is the end of talking," said Clara, moving aw 
 "I will not detain you." 
 
 Poubalov promptly bowed ceremoniously, bade her 
 good-evening, and left the house. 
 
 Paul slipped out After him, and tried his ability at 
 playing "shadow." 
 
 Clara was greatly disturbed by her interview with Pon- 
 balov, athough it had added nothing to her knowledge of 
 the circumstances with which she was blindly battling. 
 She felt like retiring at once, for she was exhausted, but 
 there was a fresh call upon her strength within a few 
 minutes of the spy's departure. This time it was the man 
 
AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 185 
 
 whom she knew only by his first name, "Mike," who had 
 been sent from the livery stable to take Ivan to the wed 
 ding. He was an uncouth, illiterate young man, the most 
 violent contrast imaginable to her recent visitor, but also 
 the most welcome, for there could be no manner of doubt 
 as to his simple honesty. Clara found it a relief to talk 
 with him apart from the fact that his message was OLO 
 that stirred her with new hope and stimulated her weary 
 brain to new plans for Ivan's deliverance. 
 
 "I was to say to ye, " said Mike, "how I'd had me eyes 
 an' more, too, last night, on the feller what did the trick 
 to me wheel." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" exclaimed Clara eagerly; "but what do 
 you mean? Did somebody send you to tell me?" 
 
 "Yes'm, me boss. I told me boss about it, an' he says 
 you go to Miss Hilman with that, an' tell her all about it, 
 an', says he, if it's anything that can be useful to her you 
 can do, do it, says he." 
 
 "You must thank him for me," said Clara. "Now tell 
 me, please, how and where you saw this man, and what 
 he said. I won't interrupt you." 
 
 "It's not me as would like to tell you what he said, 
 miss. He wasn't speakin* to a lady, an' I'm thinkin'alady 
 wouldn't 'a' give him the cause to curse as I did." 
 
 Mike grinned in enjoyment of some retrospect that Clara 
 thought she could imagine, and she smiled and waited pa- 
 tiently for him to tell his story in his own way. 
 
 "It was last evenin', miss, at the corner of Dover an* 
 Washington streets. I was done with me work for the 
 day, an' was standin' in a saloon by the bar, havin' a drop 
 of beer by myself, when this loafer came in. He stood 
 alongside o' me an' called for something, I don't mind 
 now what, for I was onto him, an' was thinkin' to meself 
 would I thump him, or would I have an argyment. I was 
 lookin' straight at him, me hand on me beer glass, an' I 
 suppose he noticed me for that, for pretty soon he turns 
 around an' with a kind of a start, 'Hello!' says he. 
 
 Now I don't know what would 'a' happened if he 
 
 i t- 
 
186 AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 
 
 hadn't spoke, for I would 'a' spoke to him, an' it 
 'a' been all the same, but 1 was that mad all of a sud, 
 that I let the beer fly in his face. With that he jum^-a on 
 me an' we had a fine fight, till the bartenders came round 
 an' chucked us both into the street. They was a poli<vmun 
 near by, so we quit fightin,' an' went to another bar 
 where we had a drink an' got friendly. He was already 
 pretty full, miss, an' I was as sober as I am now, an' after 
 three or four more drinks he got to talkin' confidei 
 about that wheel." 
 
 Clara was on the qui vive with anxiety to know just 
 what had occurred between Mike and his acquaint a 
 while at the same time she felt repugnance to basing any 
 serious efforts upon the words of a drunken man, a sudl 
 as distrust as to the value of a clew from such a source; 
 but she felt, too, that she could stop at nothing in 
 emergency that confronted her. So she asked, "What did 
 he say, Michael?" 
 
 "First off he was for donyin' that he had any thin' to do 
 with it; but bymeby, aeein' as I wasn't mad any more, 
 enjoyin' the trick of it himself, he told me he done it, 'an' 
 I know what became of your man/ says he. 'An' wl: 
 says I. With that, though, he shut up. He winked his eye, 
 an' talked about somethin' else, an' I, not thin kin' or 
 caring very much at the time, didn't ask many questions. 
 But this mornin* I was thinkin' it over, an' wonderin' 
 what became of th' gentleman, an' thinkin' there must 
 be something crooked, or they wouldn't 'a' took me wheel 
 off, an' so I told me boss an' he told me to tell you. " 
 
 "It was very kind of you both," said Clara grateful, yet 
 fearful that the point of most importance had been lost. 
 'Was his name Billings?" 
 
 "No'rn, 'twas Patterson. Him an' mo was together for 
 some time after the fight, an' 1 walked along home with 
 him." 
 
 "You know where he lives then?" 
 
 "Not exactly, miss, but I could go pretty near to it. 
 You see, we was goin' along Washington Street toward 
 
AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 187 
 
 Roxbury, and had come a long way from Dover, when 
 he turns down a side street, an' then another, an' I kep' 
 along for I hadn't anything better to do. He'd been silent 
 for a while, an' suddenly he stops an' says, tryin' hard to 
 brace up. 4 You mustn ' t com a any further, ' says he. 'Why 
 not?' says I, half minded to give him another lickin', only 
 
 he was too full. ' 'Cause me boss says he will ' but 
 
 never mind what he said his boss would do. I said I didn't 
 care, an' turned back. He went on, an' then I was minded 
 to see where he went. Of course it was dark, an' I couldn't 
 be certain, but I think I could go straight to that build- 
 ing." 
 
 "Will you take me there?" asked Clara. 
 
 "Now, miss?" 
 
 Clara reflected. Other objections aside, it might be the 
 worst possible policy to move prematurely in the matter. 
 It might be a false clew, she knew nothing about the 
 building, and meantime Paul was following Poubalov. 
 Much as she longed for immediate action, it seemed wiser 
 to postpone it until an investigation could be made. 
 
 "Would your employer spare you to help me to-morrow 
 forenoon?" she asked. 
 
 "I think he would, miss. He told me to do what you 
 said, says he " 
 
 "Tell him, please, that I would like to have you go with 
 me to-morrow as soon after nine o'clock as you can get 
 here. I shall want you to show me the building, and iden- 
 tify the man Patterson." 
 
 "That I will, miss, if he's served you any trick." 
 
 Poubalov walked very rapidly after he left Mr. Pem- 
 broke's. He could have saved himself many steps by 
 
 taking a street-car, but he evidently preferred energetic 
 action. 
 
 Paul, following, took note, as Litizki had done on a 
 similar occasion, of the streets through which he passed, 
 and at last he saw him pause and stand for several min- 
 utes at the curb, looking across the road at what seemed 
 to be an old-fashioned hotel. After a time he walked 
 
AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 
 
 slowly on, and soon thereafter was joined by a man with 
 whom he conversed. 
 
 Paul went near enough to see the man's face, but he did 
 not recognize him as anybody he had ever seen before. 
 The conversation finished, Poubalov continued on his 
 way, again walking rapidly, but this time, after coming 
 to Washington Street, he boarded a downtown car. An 
 open car was directly behind it, and Paul found a place 
 on its front seat, thus being enabled to keep the spy in 
 view until he alighted at Scollay Square. 
 
 The guilty as well as the innocent must eat, and supper 
 was the next thing to engage Poubalov 's attention. Paul 
 improved the opportunity in the same way, but he fin- 
 ished quickly, and waited a long time for the spy to come 
 forth. He had been watching the restaurant entrance 
 from a doorway across the street, and at last he ventured 
 over to see whether possibly his quarry had escaped him. 
 No; there sat Poubalov, at a table not far from the door, 
 his head bent down as if he were thinking profoundly. 
 His snppor lay almost untouched before him. Just as 
 Paul looked in, the head waiter touched the customer on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 Poubalov looked up with a start, and the head waiter 
 seemed to be apologizing for his intrusion. It was cL ar 
 that he had supposed the customer to be asleep, or ill. 
 Poubalov paid his check and left the place. 
 
 He went to his lodging-house, and when Paul saw that 
 he had lit the gas, he, too, went inside. 
 
 He locked the door immediately and applied his eye 
 to the nail hole. 
 
 Poubalov sat with folded arms in an old-fashioned rock- 
 ing chair, gazing abstractedly before him. On the little 
 center table under the chandelier, Paul could just distin- 
 guish Clara's photograph. 
 
 Paul remained with his eye at the hole until it seemed 
 as if he could stand no longer. In all that time Poubalov 
 had not moved perceptibly. 
 
 The watcher got down and looked at his time-piece. It 
 
AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 189 
 
 was half-past ten. He then sat with his head against 
 the door that he might hear the slightest sound from the 
 front room. 
 
 Just what possessed Paul to be so vigilant on this occa- 
 sion, when the spy was doing absolutely nothing but 
 cudgel his inscrutable mind, he could not have told in 
 less vague terms than that he didn't want Poubalov to 
 get away from him. If he were to take a nocturnal, or 
 early morning ramble, Paul purposed to be on hand to ac- 
 company him. 
 
 Something like a half hour passed, and then Paul 
 heard a long, heavy sigh, and the creak of the rocker as 
 Poubalov rose. Quickly mounting his perch, Paul saw 
 him pace back and forth, his hands clinched behind him 
 and his brow set in hard wrinkles. He seemed to be in 
 for a night of it, and as his movement promised to be pro- 
 ductive of nothing more than his quiescence, Paul again 
 dismounted and sat down. So monotonously did the 
 march continue that the listener's head began to droop, 
 lulled by the very sound he had set himself to hear, and 
 had it not been for the extreme anxiety with which he had 
 undertaken his task, Paul would have fallen asleep. After 
 twice catching himself nodding, he no longer dared to sit 
 still. So he rose and stepped lightly about the room to 
 start the blood in his drowsy limbs. 
 
 The sound of marching ceased. Poubalov had stopped 
 under the chandelier, and when Paul had him in view 
 he was in the act of turning Clara's photograph face down 
 upon the table. He took out the leather pocketbook that 
 had checked the dagger thrust by Litizki's hand, and ex- 
 amined on of the documents in it attentively. It appeared 
 to be of an official character, for there was a big seal upon 
 it : and it was bound with ribbon. Paul could see the 
 holes made by the dagger in passing through the several 
 folds of the paper, or parchment. 
 
 Poubalov laid the document upon the table, sat down, 
 and, drawing fresh paper before him, began to write. 
 His pen traversed the sheets with great rapidity, and as 
 
190 AT ONE O'CLOCK A. M. 
 
 Paul could hear the scratching plainly, he again sought 
 relief from his uncomfortable perch. 
 
 It was nearly one o'clock when the sound of writing 
 ceased. 
 
 Paul saw that Poubalov had removed his coat. What 
 he had written was folded and placed in an envelope upon 
 the table. 
 
 The watcher supposed that the spy was about to retire, 
 but there was so evidently something further upon 
 Poubalov's mind, something that he seemed to de 1 
 whether it were best done now, or in the morning, that 
 Paul kept his place and watched ; and as he strained 
 his eye to take in every movement, instinctively shading 
 his face although he stood in the darkness, he saw 
 Poubalov draw a revolver from his hip-pocket. 
 
 Placing the hammer at half-cock, he tilted the barrel 
 forward and pushed the cartridge cylinder about with his 
 thumb and finger. 
 
 Every chamber seemed to be as he wished it, and he 
 readjusted the barrel. 
 
 Then he walked to the bureau upon which swung a half- 
 length mirror. His back was thus partial!}' turned to 
 the watcher, and Paul could see dimly the reflection of his 
 face looking somberly toward him. He held the revolver 
 in his ri^ht hand, the finger on the trigger, the barrel 
 pointed toward tlio floor. 
 
 Paul was in an agony of doubt and apprehension. What 
 should he do? 
 
 How long would Poubalov stand there and allow him to 
 reflect? 
 
 Would the spy, then, "get away," and by this manner 
 of exit? 
 
 With his left hand Poubalov took his watch from his 
 pocket. He glanced at the face of the busy and faithful 
 little machine, and it was only too evident that he had 
 the limit of his life at some point that the moving hands 
 would presently reach. 
 
THE NEW CLEW. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE NEW CLEW. 
 
 Frantic with anxiety and dread, Paul followed a sudden 
 impulse and jumped to the floor, ran to the door that 
 opened into the hall, unlocked and opened it and rushed 
 out. 
 
 He had a wild idea of bursting in the door of Poubalov's 
 room and wrestling with him if need be to take away 
 the revolver and prevent suicide. 
 
 He stopped, startled, just outside his door, for Poubalov 
 stood before him, the light from the chandelier streaming 
 out upon him and showing him erect, alert, his revolver 
 pointed directly at the watcher. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Poubalov, coolly. 
 
 Paul caught his breath and leaned upon the banister. 
 
 "I was going out in a hurry and stumbled against a 
 chair," he stammered. 
 
 "Strange time of night to do things in a hurry, " re- 
 marked Poubaolv, still aiming his weapon at the young 
 man; "do you belong here?" 
 
 "Yes; I moved in yesterday." 
 
 Poubalov stood a little aside to let the light fall more 
 fully upon Paul's face. 
 
 "Humph!" he said, lowering the revolver; then added, 
 in Russian, "you are Paul Palovna, intimate friend of Ivan 
 Strobel." 
 
 "Yes," admitted Paul, in the same language, "I am, 
 and you are his deadly enemy. ' 
 
 "Bah!" exclaimed Poubalov in profound disgust, "you 
 ought to know better. Come in here but no! you are in a 
 hurry. Go, then; I will talk to you another time." 
 
 "Better now, Poubalov, " returnd Paul, significantly ,- 
 
192 THE NEW CLEW. 
 
 'one of us might be missing before another opportunity 
 occurred, tana not so much in a hurry that I cannot list n 
 to you." 
 
 4 'No!" said the spy, decidedly, "go your way, and take 
 this comfort with you, Palovna, that you have done your 
 friend Strobel a service." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders and withdrew into his room 
 and closed the door. 
 
 Paul went slowly down the stairs and opened the front 
 door just as the landlady poked her head from her room 
 on the ground floor and inquired in an agitated whisper, 
 "Whatever was the trouble?" 
 
 "It is nothing," said Paul, "I stumbled, and the gentle- 
 man in the front room mistook me for a burglar, I gu 
 Sorry I disturbed you." 
 
 "It's all right," whispered the landlady, "but I guess 
 he must have scared you some. Your face is as wet as if 
 you'd been out in a rain." 
 
 Paul realized then to what a tense degree his nerves had 
 been strained. 
 
 Perspiration seemed to be oozing from every pore. His 
 knees felt weak and his head dizzy, but he kept in mind 
 the part he was playing and left the house. Howevrr 
 certain it was that Poubalov would infer that Strobel 's 
 intimate friend lodged there for the purpose of watching 
 him, it would never do to openly admit the fact by re- 
 turning immediately to his room. 
 
 He went to the corner of Bowdoin Street, and back on 
 the other side to a point directly opposite Poubalov 's win- 
 dows. 
 
 As he walked, one deep-toned stroke rang out from a 
 neighboring church tower. 
 
 If that was the hour Poubalov had set for putting a 
 bullet into his heart, he had let it pass without -taking 
 action. 
 
 Paul kept his eyes upon the curtained windows behind 
 which the chandelier light still glowed, and longed to be 
 back at his peephole, watcihng the spy. Yet there was 
 
THE NEW CLEW. 193 
 
 nothing that he could do if he were there. He had seen 
 the one great incident in Poubalov's career come to its cli- 
 max upon the awful verge of tragedy; and he felt that as 
 the spy's life trembled in the balance, the weight had 
 been thrown into the scale for prolonging it by his impul- 
 sive jump from the chair on which he had been viewing 
 the scene. 
 
 Not that Poubalov was hesitating ; his was the nerve to 
 pull the trigger with the precision and steadiness of a 
 marksman when the appointed time came; but the shock 
 of irrelevant circumstances had been just what was needed 
 to release the morbid pressure of gloomy contemplation 
 from the brain, and restore it to its normal activity. 
 
 Thus Paul reflected, with his eyes upon the lighted win- 
 dows. A party of roysterers swung into the place, singing 
 discordantly. One of them fell at the- corner of Bowdoin 
 Street, and his companions helped him up with drunken 
 jeers and laughter. Paul had turned his head to watch 
 them, and when he looked again at the lodging-house 
 across the way, all the windows were dark. Poubalov had 
 gone to bed. 
 
 As faithful as the unforunate Litizki to his task, Paul 
 sat up all that night. When drowsiness overcame him, he 
 bathed his face and head with water, or walked gently 
 about the room. He smoked all the cigarettes in his posses- 
 sion, for the sake of having something to do, and when 
 his stock was exhausted, he went to a neighboring "all- 
 night" restaurant and bought a handful of cigars. He lis- 
 tened through the hours for any suggestive sound from 
 the front room, but, beyond an occasional deep breath, he 
 heard nothing. 
 Poubalov slept well. 
 
 It was not until the day, reckoning by the light, was 
 well advanced, that the spy rose and dressed. While he 
 was still busy with his toilet, a messenger called and left 
 a note for Paul with word to the scrub-woman who was 
 already at work, that it was to be delivered at once. It 
 was from Clara. 
 
194 THE NEW CLEW. 
 
 "A new clew," she wrote, "and the most promising one 
 thus far, has been brought to me this evening. I need help 
 in following it to the end. Owing to my uncle's indisposi- 
 tion, I do not feel like even telling him about it, much 
 less asking him to give me his time. Can you come? I 
 know you are doing much, and quite likely taking time 
 that you ought to devote to work, but I ask some further 
 assistance, nevertheless, knowing that it is not necvssiry 
 for me to plead. This is so important that I believe you 
 can leave Poubalov for a while, no matter -what he is do- 
 ing. Please come by nine o'clock if you possibly can." 
 
 Paul had great faith in Clara, although he had not 
 known with sufficient detail of her recent work to give 
 her judgment all the credit that it deserved, and so he 
 found himself in an annoying quandary. To him it seenn-d 
 essential to follow Poubalov now that he was well in 
 view. 
 
 He felt, too, some disappointment at being called a 
 without being able to feel that his night had been spent 
 sleeplessly to some purpose. 
 
 It could not be that Clar had discovered anything of 
 great importance compared to the developments that 
 would probably follow a patient tracking of Poubalov 's 
 footsteps during the day. 
 
 Why hadn't she mentioned what her clew was? No, 
 she depended upon him to obey her implicitly, as if he 
 had no more discretion than Litizki. 
 
 If Paul was a bit unreasonable and restive, let it be 
 charged against his fatigue. Few men can keep an even 
 temper when the nerves are unstrung and the whole body 
 cries for rest. Poubalov saved him from the error, if so it 
 was, of disregarding Clara's wishes. It came about in this 
 way: 
 
 Paul climbed to his observation perch, to see how mat- 
 ters stood in the next room. Poubalov had opened the 
 envelope containing the papers he had been at work upon 
 during the midnight hour, and was now destroying them, 
 
THE NEW CLEW. 195 
 
 burning them one sheet at a time over the wash-bowl that 
 I he had set upon the center table. 
 
 He was fully dressed, even to the hat on his head, and 
 Paul carefully replaced the nail which protected his peep- 
 hole. 
 
 He stood by the chair with Clara's letter in his hand, 
 still undecided what course to take, when there was a 
 . knock at his door. 
 
 He opened, and Poubalov stood there. 
 
 "You can spare the time now, I suppose?" he said in- 
 \ quir ngly with a grim glance at the valentine hanging 
 from the improvised hook. 
 
 Paul saw that his ruse was discovered, but he followed 
 the spy into the front room, his heart beating high with 
 expectation. 
 
 "There is never an effect without a cause, young man,' 
 remarked Poubalov, motioning Paul to a chair; "the ef- 
 fect was sufficient for me last night, and so far as your act 
 deserves it, you have my thanks. This morning I sought 
 the cause, and of course, I found it. Do not be disturbed. 
 I have no reproaches to make. You imagined yourself at 
 war with me, and you took your own methods to win, 
 There is nothing to complain of in that ; but you, as a Rus- 
 sian of intelligence, should have known that I could not 
 be as hostile as you think to an American citizen. Bah 1 
 it's not worth discussing! You've all lost your heads. 
 
 "What I have to say is this: I am on duty for the czar, 
 and having recovered from my dangerous temptation to 
 be derelict, I shall do what duty demands, without let or 
 hindrance from anybody. I will tolerate no interference, 
 no matter whose fair lips give the command. When that 
 little wretch, Litizki, was in that chair where you are now 
 sitting, I sought to influence him by threats against him 
 self. I don't take that method with you, Paul Palovna. If 
 you choose to do so, you can dog my footsteps from now 
 on, for I presume your American laws will not protect 
 me in my desire to work undisturbed ; but bear in mind 
 that I have no more love for Ivan Strobel now than I ever 
 
196 THE NEW CLEW. 
 
 had, and if I see fit to release him, it must be I, Alt 
 der Poubalov, who chooses to do so of his own free will. 
 Do you understand me?" 
 
 "Sufficiently to see that you would frighten me from my 
 course by threats against the man whom you have in 
 your power, and whom I am trying to rescue." 
 
 "You do well/' continued Poubalov; "and if you are in 
 any doubt as to whether I am in earnest, I adv -\ to 
 
 report what I have said, and what you saw in this room 
 la>t night, to Miss Hilman. She will tell you whether 1 am 
 likely to be gratuitously merciful. Spy upon me, there- 
 fore, if you like. I shall know that you defy me, and you 
 will have to bear the consequences. Shall we breakfast to- 
 gether, Paul Palovna?" 
 
 Paul ignored the ironical invitation, which was Pouba- 
 lov's way of saying that he has said his say, and re- 
 marked : 
 
 "I also have a suggestion to make." 
 
 Poubalov raised his brows in contemptuous surprise that 
 anything could bo nddsl \^ his statement of the- situai 
 
 "You havo spoken of .can law," sai>l Paul, "and 
 
 I simply suggest that the friends of Strobel may 
 resort to law to obtain his freedom. I don't kimw huw 
 much you may have said to Liti/ki and Miss Hilman, but 
 you havo made some damaging admission> t< i 
 
 "Really ! is that all you can think of? It's hardly worth 
 a reply, but I will suggest in return that what you call 
 admissions are your own inferences, nothing more. A-k 
 the nearest police captain, or, better, go to the publ 
 eoutor with your imaginings. I will tell you that t! 
 isn't a scrap of evidence on which to base my an 
 that, of course, is what you aim at. You are more of a 
 child than I thought you were, with all your pot 
 trivnnct'S for peeping upon a Russian ollicial. Au revoir, 
 Palovna." 
 
 Paul went downstairs in a rage, impressed, as all were 
 whoever came in contact with this remarkable man, with 
 IVubulov's faculty for gaining and keeping a masterful 
 
THE NEW CLEW. 1*7 
 
 control over the situation. The worst of it was, the spy 
 was probably entirely in the right so far as law was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 As well arrest himself, Palovna, as this foreigner who 
 had shown his interest in the Strobel case in eccentric 
 ways, perhaps, but who could not be charged with crimi- 
 nality, unless possibly by Litizki, and the tailor had him- 
 self made it impossble that he should be of any further 
 service. 
 
 There seemed to be no course open to him but to re- 
 spect Clara's wishes, and, accordingly, out to Roxbury he 
 went. 
 
 He arrived at Mr. Pembroke's house just before nine 
 o'clock, and found Clara waiting for him, dressed to go 
 out. 
 
 They exchanged information while waiting for Mike 
 to come, Clara telling about the discovery of Patterson, 
 and Paul giving a guarded account of Poubalov's contem- 
 plated suicide. 
 
 He tried to spare Clara the horrors of the scene, but 
 he felt that she ought to know how deeply in earnest 
 Poubalov was, that she might the more correctly judge 
 him and estimate the value of his threats. 
 
 "It must have been a dreadful moment/' she said when 
 he had finished, "and I am glad that another tragedy has 
 been averted. It is hard to believe that he will go to ex- 
 treme measures but what am I saying? What has he not 
 done that is cruel, barbarous and wicked? How can I ex- 
 pect anything but unmixed evil from such a man? I be- 
 lieve it is well that for a time we can appear to withdraw 
 our observations of him." 
 
 Mike was late, but when he did come he came with a 
 coupe. 
 
 "Me boss said, miss," he explained, "that if there was 
 to be any travelin, ' you was to ride as far an' as long as 
 you liked, with his compliments." 
 
 "Your employer is very kind," said Clara. "This gen. 
 tleman, Mr. Palovna, will go with me, and if he asks you 
 
W8 THE NEW <'LE\V. 
 
 to do anything, you needn't wait for my consent. We will 
 go straight to the place where you left Patter-on. 
 there, and point out the house you think he went into, 
 don't drive up to it." 
 
 When they were in the coupe, Clara continued to Paul : 
 
 "I have no definite plan as to Patterson. That nr 
 velop when \vu lind him. If he can be cajoled, bribe. 
 frightened into telling us the truth, it must be dun. 
 don't see that we are called upon to make nice discrimina- 
 tions in our methods." 
 
 "Any way is fair in dealing with a criminal," returned 
 Paul. " Humph!" 
 
 "What is it?" asked Clara, observing that ho 
 take a lively interest in the street through which \ 
 w-re passing. 
 
 "It may be only a coincidence," said Paul, "but it just 
 occurred to mo that thus far Mike has taken u 
 aetly the same course that Poubalov pursued when 1 
 lowed him last evening." 
 
 "I presume it's not a coincident : M.r.d <1 < 'lara, 
 
 and she thought of Liti/ki's passi" 
 anything is discovered, you discover Poubalov's hand in 
 it." 
 
 Step by stop the coup6 followed Poubalov's lin< 
 march, and when it drew up at last, it was at the v* TV 
 cnrner where Paul had seen the spy talking with the 
 stranger. 
 
 Mike got down and opened the door, and as 
 spoke, Clara looked out in the direction in whieh lie 
 pointed. 
 
 "This was where Patterson shook me, miss, " lie said, 
 "an" I seen him go along down the street an' cross < 
 just below there an' go into a house that one, I think, 
 with the balcony along the front, the one a gentleman is 
 just eomin' out of." 
 
 Clara drew hack into the coupe hastily. The gentleman 
 coming from the house in question was Poubalov, and ho 
 was walking toward them. 
 
A STUBBORN ANTAGONIST. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A STUBBORN ANTAGONIST. 
 
 "Stay just where you are, Michael, " exclaimed Clara, 
 "and don't let that man see your face." 
 
 Mike did as directed, pushing his head and shoulders 
 far into the coupe and whispering : 
 
 "It isn't him, is it, miss, who's got anything to do with 
 the case?" 
 
 "Yes, "she replied in a low tone, while she and Paul 
 kept as far back in the gloom of the carriage as they 
 could; "have you ever seen him before?" 
 
 "Yes'm, he was down to the stables the day this gentle- 
 man called, askin' would 1 know the man who did the 
 trick to me wheel." 
 
 "It was a ruse, " muttered Paul; "he pretended to in- 
 vestigate in the same spirit that I did so as to throw sus- 
 picion from himself. If he has anything like the percep- 
 tions that we think he has, he will recognize this rig. Isn't 
 it the same, Mike, with which you started to take Mr. 
 Strobel to his wedding?" 
 
 "Identical, sir, horse an' all." 
 
 Poubalov had passed them during this brief conversa- 
 tion, and as none of them had ventured to look at him, 
 they could not tell whether or not he recognized the 
 turnout. 
 
 They could hear his rapid steps as he strode along, 
 and there was certainly no pause to indicate that 
 he had seen anything that surprised or interested him. 
 
 "I must know where he goes," said Clara. "Get on the 
 box, Michael, and drive after him without letting him see, 
 if you can help it, that you are following him. Let us 
 know if he enters any house, but do not stop in front of 
 it." 
 
200 A ,ST/ 7; HORN ANTAGONIST. 
 
 'Yes'm," replied Mike, closing the door. 
 He turned the vehicle about and drove slowly to the 
 corner. 
 
 Poubalov had paused, ostensibly to buy a paper at a 
 news-stand a little way up the street. He glanced 
 back at the approaching vehicle, shrugged his shoulders, 
 and moved on as rapidly as before. Mike reported this to 
 Clara a few minutes later, when he had seen Poubalov 
 board a Scollay Square car. 
 
 "Ho is satisfied that we are following him, then," said 
 Clara, and she felt afraid as she recalled the threats that 
 the spy had uttered to Paul. 
 
 Would he proceed promptly to put into execution what- 
 ever design he might have for injuring Ivan? Would not 
 the disappointed passion that had led him to all but the 
 commission of suicide now prompt him to murder his 
 prisoner? 
 
 Clara sank back and covered her face with her hands, 
 completely unnerved for the moment by the seeming im- 
 minence of catastrophe. 
 
 "When will the end come!" she moaned. 
 
 Mike looked on in honest and surprised distress, ard 
 Paul himself, knowing as he did the reasons for her excess 
 of fear, was at his wits' end to suggest comfort. 
 
 Clara uncovered her eyes suddenly. They blazed with 
 new determination. 
 
 "Michael," she cried, "could you overtake the car he is 
 on?" 
 
 "I could try it, miss, but he's got a pretty good start." 
 
 "Try it, then. Don't spare the horse for just this once. 
 If you come near to catching up, and he looks around, 
 then drive more slowly, as if you were not able to keep 
 up the pace, and finally stop altogether, let the car get 
 away, and I'll tell you what to do next. Hurry!" 
 
 Mike did hurry. 
 
 The conpe started with a jolt as he lashed his astonished 
 horse into a gallop. 
 
A STUBBORN ANTAGONIST. 201 
 
 "What s your plan, Miss Hilman?" asked Paul, who was 
 at a loss to account for this projected maneuver. 
 
 "The man wants us to follow him," she replied, turning 
 upon her companion almost fiercely in the intensity of her 
 excitement. "He would lead us away from the scene of 
 his operations, don't you see? Since he has discovered 
 that you have been watching him, he has thought it all 
 over, and he has concluded that it is more than likely that 
 you tracked him to that street, for that was the street, 
 wasn't it? Of course! Then he would naturally expect me 
 to go there. I don't dream that he foresaw meeting us just 
 now, but what I do believe to be the case is, that finding 
 that house insecure for his purpose, he is now planning to 
 remove his prisoner, and happening upon us as he did, he 
 will do what he can to lead us away from it. Don't you 
 see?" 
 
 "It sounds reasonable; and you plan, then, to make a 
 pretense at a desperate effort to catch up with him, and 
 when he has got away a considerable distance, to return 
 to the house and investigate." 
 
 "That's it, "and Clara again sank back, but this tiraehej 
 face expressed energy and confidence in success. 
 
 "I wonder how we are getting on," she said after a mo- 
 ment. They were dashing along Washington Street now 
 at a furious rate, attracting attention from all passers. 
 Paul tried to look ahead, bufc he could not do so without 
 leaning far out of the coupe, and that did not seem to be 
 advisable. 
 
 "Never mind, " said Clara; "I think the driver can be 
 trusted to play his part, if his horse doesn't play it for 
 him by falling down from exhaustion. By the way, I 
 had a letter from O'Brien this morning. You don't know 
 who he is, do you? He is the employee at the Park Square 
 Station who saw Billings drive up, and who says that a 
 man left the carriage and went into the station. The detect- 
 ives, you know, supposed that man to be Ivan. It's a small 
 point, but O'Brien very kindly wrote to me when he dis- 
 covered it. He says he was talking about the case with a 
 
202 ^'riiliORN ANTAGONIST. 
 
 fellow-workman who remembered the occurrence, and 
 who says that shortly after Billings was seen by O'Brien, 
 a closed carriage stopped at the Columbus Avenue en- 
 trance to the station, near the baggage rooms, you know, 
 and that a man left the station and got in. Of course that 
 was the carriage Billings drove, and the man was doubt 
 the same who got out at the front entrance. He had simply 
 walked through the station, mingled with the crowd, per- 
 haps going so far as to buy a ticket for New York, and 
 then had rejoined his driver. Doesn't it seem clear?" 
 
 4 'It's a perfectly plausible explanation of the point, but 
 it's a pity O'Brien's friend didn't turn up with it sooner. 
 You might have been saved your journey to New York." 
 
 "I'm not sure about that. I am not sorry that I saw Liz- 
 zie White, although I never felt for an instant that Ivan 
 had eloped." 
 
 The coupe" was still rattling onward at the highest speed 
 the horse could attain, but a moment after Clara had fin- 
 ished, it came to a sudden halt, and they heard a stern 
 voice saying: 
 
 "You know better than to drive so fast in the street! 
 I've a great mind to take you in. " 
 
 Mike was protesting in characteristic fashion, inventing 
 soin thing about the necessity of catching a train, when 
 Clara opened the coupe 1 door and stepped out. A policeman 
 stood at the horse's head, glaring with offended dignity 
 at the driver. 
 
 "If there is any fault it. is mine, officer," she said 
 sweetly; "please scold me, for I told him to drive as fast 
 as he could." 
 
 "That don't make no difference, ma'am," returned the 
 policeman, instantly mollified, but still feeling it incum- 
 bent upon him to assert the majesty of municipal ordi- 
 nances; "he's a regular, and he knew better. 'Tain't al- 
 lowed to go so fast anywhere in Boston 'less it's on a race 
 track." 
 
 "I'm very sorry," said Clara. 
 
 "Go on with you, " commanded the policeman to Mike, 
 
A STUBBORN ANTAGONIST. 203 
 
 "and be a little more careful. It would be rougfr on me, 
 you see," he added to Clara, "if I wasn't to stop him." 
 
 Mike looked inquiringly down at his passenger. 
 
 "Come to the door a minute, Michael, " she said, and 
 returned to the coupe. 
 
 "That cop's too fresh to live, " remarked Mike as he 
 put his head in to receive instructions. 
 
 "Were we anywhere near the car?" asked Clara. 
 'Yes'm, we was most onto it, an' I was just goin' to 
 pull up a bit when the cop got in his work." 
 
 "Could you see the man we were after?" 
 
 "Yes'm; he turned round, an' I guess he saw what the 
 cop did, but I lost sight of him try in' to keep me horse 
 from treadin' on the cop's toes." 
 
 "It's just as well, then," said Clara, satisfied. "I'm 
 rather glad the policeman stopped us, for now Poubalov 
 will be certain why it was that we didn't catch up. You 
 needn't hurry so now, Michael; drive back to the place 
 where we started from." 
 
 "Where Patterson shook me, miss? All right. I'm on," 
 and he clambered back to the box. 
 
 Nothing occurred to disturb their return jouraey, and 
 when Mike again opened the door for instructions, Clara 
 and Paul got out. 
 
 "We will go straight to the house and inquire for Pat- 
 terson, " said Clara, "and if we don't find him there, we'll 
 ask all along the stret." 
 
 "Whist, miss!" exclaimed Mike, in his eagerness grip- 
 ping her arm; "there goes Patterson now!" 
 
 "Where?" she cried, looking, of course, in the wrong 
 direction. 
 
 "Below there, him on the box of the closed carriage, 
 miss. On my soul, it looks like the same " 
 
 "Follow it quick, Michael," she said excitedly. "Come, 
 Paul!" and she sprang into the coupe. 
 
 "I'll sit on the box with Mike," answered Paul, tremen- 
 dously aroused ; he was already climbing to a place beside 
 
2U4 A STUBBORN ANTAGONIST. 
 
 the driver; "from here I can act quicker. Hit her up, 
 Mike!" 
 
 So off they went on another pursuit, Mike treating his 
 horse to more lash than he had ever experienced before. 
 
 "I don't believe you'll need to go so fast as to risk 
 arrest," said Paul; "Patterson probably don't suspect 
 that we are after him, and it would be better to go a little 
 slower than to be stopped again by a policeman. " 
 
 "I almost ran down one cop who tried to make me pull 
 up before, " responded Mike, through set teeth, "an 1 I 
 wouldn't mind bein' took in myself if it wasn't for spoiliu' 
 the game. I'll look sharp, sir, never fear." 
 
 Patterson and his carriage had disappeared around a 
 corner almost before the coupe" had started, but they \ 
 soon in view again, jogging forward at a rather lively 
 rate several blocks ahead. 
 
 "Will I overhaul him, sir, right a way?" asked Mike 
 "I could do it by driving like sin." 
 
 "Don't risk it," answered Paul ; "as long as he is in 
 sight, I shan't worry if we gain a little at every 1)1 
 Let's not drive fast enough to attract attention, for wo 
 may have a row when we catch him, and the less cr 
 around the hotter. 1 ' 
 
 "If there's to be a fight" said Mike, with a hopeful prrin, 
 "I ran d . Patterson. I'm not even with him yet for doin' 
 the trick to mo wheel." 
 
 "All right. If it comes to a scrimmage, you look after 
 him, and I'll try to attend to the passengers. I'll tell y<>u 
 just, what we suspect, so that you can understand what 
 you are to do. If we're not mistaken, Mr. Strobol is in 
 that carriage, helplessly bound. There may be another 
 man with him. In any case, we must get Strobe -1 ;r 
 and put him in the coup. When that is done, yon drive 
 straight to Mr. Pembroke's. Don't wait for Miss Hilman 
 or me if we don't happen to get in. We'll take care of our- 
 selves. You look out for Mr. Strobel. Call the police to 
 help if you need to, for we've nothing to fear from the 
 law." 
 
A STUBBORN ANTAGONIST. 205 
 
 "I'm on," said Mike. 
 
 The chase went on to the perfect satisfaction of Palovna, 
 who, with growing excitement, saw the distance between 
 him and Patterson's carriage gradually decreasing. His 
 one fear now was that Strobel would be found to be seri- 
 ously injured, and he felt a great dread lest Poubalov in 
 his madness had killed him ! He would not dwell upon 
 this thought, however, concentrating all his force on the 
 struggle that would probably ensue when the closed car- 
 riage was at last overtaken. 
 
 They were now in Washington Street, and again going 
 toward the city. 
 
 Patterson was less than a block away, 
 
 "Give it to him now, Mike," said Paul; "get right 
 alongside and make him pull up." 
 
 Mike nodded and gave his horse a smart cut with the 
 whip. He sprang forward at a gallop. Patterson was 
 driving near the curb, and Mike took the outside. He 
 drove close beside the closed carriage, in order to 
 "pocket" his adversary and so compel him to pull up. The 
 maneuver succeeded admirably. 
 
 Taken by surprise at the sudden appearance of a rapidly 
 galloping horse very near his wheels, Patterson reined 
 his pair nearer to the curb, uttering an impatient curse 
 at the carelessness of the other driver. Mike forced 
 him over still further, and Patterson was compelled in 
 self-defense to stop. 
 
 As he did so he turned his head to tell Mike what he 
 thought of him, 'and Paul recognized the stranger whom 
 he had seen in conversation with Poubalov. 
 
 The two drivers exchanged angry words that would 
 look rather worse in print, if possible, than they sounded, 
 and Paul lost no time in descending to the ground. The 
 vehicle, were too close together to admit of going between 
 them, so he ran around to the sidewalk and wrenched 
 open the carriage door. 
 
 Then he stood stock still. 
 
 The carriage was empty. 
 
206 A STVHUnliX A < >NIST. 
 
 Clara was beside him in an instant, and though h 
 fell, she exclaimed : 
 
 ".Shut the door and stop the quarrel. I must speak to 
 Patterson." 
 
 Everything had happened so quickly that tho t 
 drivers were still on their respective boxes, making 
 remarks to each other, when Paul stopped upon the w 
 beside Patterson and said : 
 
 "Mike, drive up to the curb just in front of us. < 
 down, Patterson. We've something to say to you." 
 
 Patterson looked down in surprise, glanced at Clara, 
 shook his head and gathered up the reins for a j . 
 start. 
 
 Paul sprang from tho wheel and caught the horses by 
 the bits before they had taken a step. 
 
 Mike was carrying out instructions and was then j 
 abreast of him. 
 
 "Mike!" said Paul in a loud voice, "don't stop, but 
 pick up tho first policeman you can lind and bring him 
 here in a hurry! We'll till k to this man in a coll if he 
 won't wait hero." 
 
 Patterson was unquestionably alarmed at this. 
 
 11 What is it you want?" he asked in a surly tone. 
 
 "Got down, and tho lad}' there will tell you," answered 
 Paul. 
 
 Patterson prepared to obey, but just thon a south-bound 
 car stopped near them, and Ponbalov alighted. He c;; 
 
 dly toward the group, his dark face darker yet with 
 passion. 
 
 "Stay on the boxl" he commanded. Ho took off his hat, 
 bowed stiffly to Clara, with one hand on the carriage 
 door, and said : 
 
 "This is my carriage. Miss Hilman. Drive on, James," 
 and before even quick-witted Clara could interpose a 
 restraining word, the door had closed upon Poubalov, and 
 the carriage rolled away. 
 
HIDE AND SEEK. 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 HIDE AND SEEK. 
 
 Clara's face was deathly pale, and in her heart; anger 
 burned as hotly at Poubalov's ceremonious insolence as it 
 ached with this fresh blow to her hopes. Paul, blue with 
 despair, feared for her, but she had not yet met the emer- 
 gency that was too great for her to contend with, however 
 unsuccessful she might be. 
 
 "We must waste no time here!" she cried stepping 
 quicklj' forward to the coupe. "Return to that house, 
 Paul, and search it; do what you think is best, according 
 to developments. I am going to pursue Poubalov as I said 
 1 would. If I do not hear from you before the day is over, 
 Paul, I shall go to that house myself. If you have to go 
 downtown, leave word at Mrs. White's. Keep that car- 
 riage in view, Michael, but don't try to overtake it. 
 Good-by, Paul!" 
 
 Her voice quivered with the desperation that had driven 
 the tears to the brink of her eyes, and she hastily entered 
 tho coupe and pulled down the window curtains. Thus 
 shut out from view, she gave way freely to her over- 
 strained emotions, her soul seeming to be borne along on 
 a rushing torrent of grief, and she felt that appalling 
 desire, than which there is no more shocking experience 
 of the heart, to throw herself into the arms of the lost 
 loved one and find comfort there. 
 
 It was a great day for sturdy Mike. The regret that he 
 hadn't had time just now to "lambast" his friend Patter- 
 son, was sweetly assuaged by the fact that he was still 
 pursuing the loafer who did the trick to his wheel, and the 
 hope that another opportunity would soon offer for a fine 
 fight. 
 
 The chase exhilarated him, and the thought that he 
 
208 HIDE AXD SEEK. 
 
 was called upon to champion a beautiful woman, made 
 his fists ache to do valiant service upon som<-L jdy's L 
 Patterson's preferred, and he thumped his knees gently 
 with his knuckles by way of practice, and kept his horse 
 at a brisk trot a few rods behind Poubalov's carriage. 
 
 He was quite confident that he could "do" both dri 
 and passenger if such a thing were necessary, and ho 
 longed heartily for an occasion to demand a trial of his 
 prowess. 
 
 After having traversed a considerable distance, he 
 pulled up, got down and gently opened the door. 
 
 "Whist, miss," he said, "they've stopped entirely." 
 
 "Where are we, and where are they?" asked Clara, now 
 her composed self again. 
 
 "In Scollay Square," answered Mike, "and they're j 
 foreninst the Crawford House. The gentleman's talkin' to 
 Patterson. Now he's lookin' at me, bud luck to him !" 
 
 "I don't wish to come np to him, " said Clara ; "if he 
 comes this way I shall be glad. You must have no fear 
 if we talk angrily together." 
 
 "I'd like to " began Mike, significantly. 
 
 "Yes, I know you would," she interrupted, ''but we 
 must have no trouble unless I give the word. I mi^ht do 
 so if I thought a policeman would arrest him, and not 
 you." 
 
 "As to that, miss," said Mike, ruefully, "any copper's 
 more likely to pull in the poor cab-driver inst.-ad <>f the 
 lino p-ntKnwn. My brother's on the force, an* if we 
 only on his beat, now!" 
 
 "Tell me what they are doing, please." 
 
 "The gentleman is going into the hotel. Patterson is 
 starting away. Shall I follow him?" 
 
 Clara reflected just an instant. 
 
 "No, "she answered. "Stay here. I'm not going to 
 pursue another empty carriage." 
 
 "Huh!" chuckled Mike, "you're a keen one, sure, for 
 that's just what he's wantin' you to do. Patterson has 
 turned down Hanover Street." 
 
HIDE AND SEEK. 209 
 
 < * 
 
 'We'll wait until he comes back, "said Clara, "if we 
 have to spend the rest of the day here; but you watch the 
 hotel Stay! there's a side entrance to the Crawford 
 House, isn't there? Can you place the coupe where you 
 can see both doors?" 
 
 " Yes, but I don't know how long the police will let me 
 stay there." 
 
 "Try it, please. If they make you move on, drive around 
 the square and come back." 
 
 Mike accordingly drove up to the curb of Tremont Row, 
 where he could look down Brattle Street. No policeman 
 had disturbed him before Patterson turned from Cornhill 
 into the square. He had driven around a few blocks, evi- 
 dently for the purpose of testing the design of his pur- 
 suers. Clara wondered why Poubalov should permit such 
 a chase to continue. It would have seemed more like him 
 to come to her with some of his characteristic sophistry, 
 and either appear to yield, or adopt an entirly different 
 course. It must be that he had some plan in view to the 
 execution of which Patterson and his closed carriage were 
 essential. 
 
 Patterson drove to the front entrance of the hotel and 
 waited, casting ugly glances across the square at Mike, who 
 grinned complacently and shook his fist. 
 
 After a moment Poubalov came out, entered the carri- 
 age, and Patterson promptly drove away. It was plain as 
 day that he had received his instructions while Poubalov 
 stood on the side-walk at the time of their arrival there. 
 He was to see whether Clara would persist in her pursuit, 
 and if so he was to and that remained to be seen. 
 
 Mike speedily resumed the reins, and again the chase 
 was in progress. Patterson went down Hanover Street, 
 and, without any apparent effort to distance his pursuer, 
 kept on until he came to Fleet Street, which leads to one of 
 the East Boston ferries. 
 
 He turned in there, and Mike lost a little by reason of a 
 temporary jam of vehicles. As soon as ho was out of it, 
 he too went through Fleet Street, and saw, to his satisfac- 
 
210 HIDE AND SEEK. 
 
 tion, that Patterson was still but a short distance ahead. 
 
 With painful anxiety, however, he saw that Patter- 
 son was making for the ferry, before which a rapidly 
 increasing line of vehicles stood waiting for a chance 
 to cross. Mike whipped up energetically, and man- 
 aged to beat several drays and express wagons on the way 
 in, and when at last he had to pull up and take his place 
 in line, Patterson's was the carriage directly in front of 
 him. 
 
 "Smart, ain't ye, ye loafer!" said Mike, disdainfully. 
 
 Patterson did not notice this remark, or any other of 
 the many with which Mike assailed him while they waited 
 for an incoming boat to discharge its cargo. When at 
 length the gates were opened for the waiting vehicles, 
 Mike was on the alert to take advantage of any opening 
 that might occur to enable him to forge ahead, but none 
 occurred. 
 
 Policemen and ferry officials kept the teams to their 
 places, and if Mike had attempted a trick, he would have 
 been compelled to go back, and thus lose more than he 
 could have gained. 
 
 One by one the carriages and wagons went on board, 
 and just after Patterson had passed the barrier the gates 
 were closed. 
 
 "Hold on there!" howled Mike, beside himself with 
 disappointment and rage, "don't yees see I've got to get 
 aboard?" 
 
 The gateman laughed and told him to make himself 
 easy ; and Patterson, from his place at the very stern of 
 the ferryboat, stood up in his seat and beckoned to Mike 
 ironically. 
 
 The unhappy chap fumed in vain and got down to tell 
 Clara about it. 
 
 "We're shook, miss, shook entirely," he said despond- 
 ently. 
 
 When Cara understood the unfortunate meaning of his 
 words, and saw that Poubalov had won in another skir- 
 mish, she herself was in a quandary. 
 
HIDE AND SEEK. 211 
 
 "Tii ere are two ferries, aren't there?" she asked. 
 
 Aren't they near enough together on this side to make it 
 possible to watch both for their return? for, of course, 
 they haven't gone to East Boston for any other purpose 
 than to come back here again unperceived. " 
 
 "That might possibly be done, miss," said Mike, after a 
 look at the jam of vehicles behind him, "but we're in for 
 a trip across anyways, for I couldn't turn 'round now. 
 An' then, d'ye see, there's more ways to get back from 
 East Boston. They might go over to Chelsea, an' come 
 back by that ferry, or take a run around by road and 
 bridge, so you'd best give 'em up as lost, miss, an' it's 
 sorry I am to tell you so." 
 
 "Well," said Clara sighing, "if we have to cross, we 
 can make inquiries on the other side, and possibly come 
 up with them again. We'll try ifc. " 
 
 Inquiries on the East Boston side were vain when they 
 landed there ten minutes later. 
 
 No one to whom they spoke could remember whether 
 a carriage such as they described had been across or not. 
 
 One man, anxious to parade information that he did 
 not possess, thought vaguely that the carriage might have 
 gone thus and so, and Clara instructed Mike to drive that 
 way a short distance, and then to return to Boston by the 
 other ferry. 
 
 This was done, and all trace of Poubalov having been 
 lost, and but one more hope remaining to her Paul's 
 investigation of the house in Roxbury she directed Mike 
 to drive to Ashburton Place. 
 
 Paul had arrived at Mrs. White's a few minutes ahead 
 of her. 
 
 "I waited for you, " he said in a disheartened voice, 
 "because I'm completely at a loss what to do next, not 
 because I have anything of importance to say." 
 
 "Everything is of importance, Paul, " replied Clara, find- 
 ing herself now called upon to inspire her allies with 
 courage as well as give them ideas. "You went to that 
 quaint-looking house, of course?" 
 
212 HIDE AND KEEK. 
 
 "Yes, it's an abandoned tavern that is, it was formerly 
 run as a hotel, but the enterprise was a failure, and i; 
 now closed. I learned that much from a man who 
 passing while I stood under the balcony, waiting for some- 
 body to answer my ring. Ho remarked that he didn't 
 believe I'd find anybody at home, as the house had been 
 practically deserted for some time." 
 
 "But we saw Poubalov come out of there this morning," 
 urged Clara. 
 
 *'I said as much to my informant, but he answered that 
 it was probably somebody who had been looking it over 
 with a view to purchase. Of course we know better, but it 
 goes to show that neither Patterson nor anybody else lives 
 there." 
 
 "Except Ivan, if he still lives," said Clara gravely. 
 
 "Don't think I forgot that possibility, " returned Paul, 
 earnosly. "I quietly tried tho door after my informant 
 had passed on; he didn't know the name of the owner, by 
 the way. Of course tho door wa locked. I went around 
 to the side and back, for then- is a driveway there leading 
 
 allies that are apparently as little used as tl.- ta\ 
 itself. Every door and every window was closed. I 
 knocked and shouted, and then neighbors put their IK ads 
 out of windows and Advised me that I was making a n< 
 to no purpose. If it had been night I would have burst 
 oprn a door or window, and have gone through the house 
 from roof to cellar, but that plAn is rather impractu-ablo 
 by daylight." 
 
 "I wonder," said Clara, "if the law would allow a search 
 of that building. I mean something to be done officially. 
 I've heard of search-warrants." 
 
 "It's barely possible, and you might try it; but my 
 idea, such as it is, would be to go there quietly to-night 
 ourselves, and force an entrance." 
 
 "And in either case Poubalov might return during the 
 day, and effect a change in the situation that would make 
 the search useless." 
 
 " Vos," said Paul, gloomily, "1 had thought of that." 
 
HIDE AND SEEK. 213 
 
 "The house must be watched this afternoon," said 
 Clara, decidedly, "but it is my very distinct impression 
 that Poubalov will go to his lodging before he returns to 
 Roxbury. It seems to me he must have been on his way 
 there when he was compelled to make a long detour to 
 elude us. And that means that I think his lodging should 
 be watched as carefully as the abandoned tavern. Will 
 you pass the afrernoon in your room, Paul?" 
 
 "Certainly, unless there is a better way of watching 
 there. You must remember that Poubalov has discovered 
 my peephole." 
 
 "Then," said Clara, "we will borrow the little front 
 hall room occupied by the young lady. Let us go down at 
 
 once. ' 
 
 On this occasion Mrs. White had left them to themselves, 
 much to Clara's relief, for she would not have cared again 
 to discuss her plans in the good lady's presence. It was 
 not that she distrusted Mrs. White's intentions, but she 
 had proven before that she was exceedingly pliable in 
 Poubalov's hands. 
 
 As they were ready to go, Clara sought Mrs. White 
 to say good-by. 
 
 "I'm sorry you are going so soon, " said the landlady; 
 "I thought you and Mr. Palovna would want a long talk, 
 and so I busied myself in the kitchen, for fear I couldn't 
 help interrupting to tell you my own good news. I expect 
 Lizzie home to-night." 
 
 "Do you, indeed?" exclaimed Clara; "I am really very 
 glad for you." 
 
 "It seems better, doesn't it?" continued Mrs. White, 
 anxious to talk to somebody, and eager for sympathy; 
 "she hasn't told me a word in her letters about why she 
 went away, but, of course, I suspected ; and I think from 
 the way she writes in the letter I got this morning that 
 she feels better, poor thing! At any rate, she's coming, 
 and I feel very happy, and I should be perfectly content if 
 only you could be happy, too, Miss Hilman." 
 
 "That seems almost an impossible boon for me now," 
 
214 HIDE AND SEEK. 
 
 replied Clara, gently; "I shall come to see you and your 
 daughter if she would like to have me." 
 "I am sure she would, Miss Hilman. Must yon him 
 Every minute seemed so precious to Clara that ^ie 
 almost begrudged the brief interval spent in this 
 change of courtesies. On the way to Bulfinoh Place >he 
 told Paul again that she should manage to watch the 
 tavern during the afternoon, "but," she added, "you are 
 most likely to meet important developments, and you \\ill 
 know where to find me, either near the tavern, or at my 
 uncle's. I shall try to watch the tavern in such a way as 
 not to frighten off Poubalov should he wish to go in, hut 
 once he should enter, I shall follow him, you may be 
 
 sure." 
 
 At the lodging-house Clara made herself known to the 
 occupant of the front hall room, who was at the time home 
 for luncheon. 
 
 Clara talked with her apart at length, telling her in a 
 general way of her troubles, but not indicating her plans 
 in detail. 
 
 The young woman had not oome in contact with Pou- 
 balov at all, it seemed. 
 
 She hardly knew that he was a lodger in the hoi 
 and the upshot of it was that her sympathies v 
 aroused, and Paul was installed in her room, where lie 
 could keep watch upon the roadway through the sin 1 
 the closed blinds. So once more Clara bade him good-by, 
 and set forth on her own task. 
 
 Paul did not venture to keep himself awake by smoking 
 in the young lady's room, and he therefore had a dr 
 fully hard time of it, for the entire afternoon passed with- 
 out an event of any kind to break the monotony of his 
 watch. 
 
 The young lady returned at six o'clock, and looked 
 in for a moment before going to dinner. After that 
 sat gossiping with the landlady. 
 
 The sun set and twilight gathered, and Paul began to 
 
HIDE AND SEEK. 215 
 
 fear that Poubalov had changed his quarters without 
 giving notice; but just before it was too dark to distin- 
 guish faces in the street below, a carriage stopped be- 
 fore the door and Paul saw that Patterson sat on the 
 box. 
 
216 BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 
 
 "About this hour, one week ago to-day," thought Clara 
 as she took her place again in the coupe, "I should have 
 been getting into a carriage at the church door, with Ivan, 
 as his wife! What an eternity seems to have passed since 
 then! Will the search and the waiting never end?" 
 
 There were no tears now, no disposition to give way. 
 The dull ache at her heart was there, and it seemed as if 
 it would stay forever, but all emotion now was held in 
 check by her determination not to let the day pass with- 
 out a decisive investigation of this latest clew that had 
 so far led to so much racing about, and thus far, too, to 
 the utter defeat of her every plan. 
 
 "Where to, miss?" asked Mike who had been standing 
 at t he coup6 door. 
 
 Clara had forgotten him for the moment, forgotten 
 even where she was. 
 
 Aroused to the work in hand, she debated for about 
 one second whether to appeal to a lawyer to get a search- 
 warrant for her. 
 
 She dismissed the suggestion as likely to involve too 
 much delay. She had never had any experience in li\v 
 suits, but she had that general conviction due to the 
 accepted phrase "the law's delay," that no one should 
 resort to the courts unless there were ample time and to 
 spare. 
 
 "We will go first to my uncle'a house," she said, "and I 
 would like to have you take such a route that you will 
 pass the house where we saw Poubalov and Patterson this 
 forenoon." 
 
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 217 
 
 "An I s'pose I'm to let you know if I see what's-his- 
 name or Patterson on the way?" 
 "By all means! do not stop unless you do." 
 The half hour's drive to Roxbury was without adven- 
 ture. Clara now had the curtains of the coupe up, and she 
 glanced from side to side through the windows as they 
 rolled along, ever alert to catch any sign of her adversa- 
 ries. 
 
 The old tavern looked, indeed, deserted. 
 
 It needed but a touch of moss or ivy, to suggest a ruin, 
 for it was not only an ancient building, but sadly out 
 of repair as well. 
 
 After they had passed beyond it a little way, Clara 
 signaled to Mike to stop. 
 
 "I dare not leave this place unguarded a moment," she 
 said; "there is no telling when Poubalov will return, but 
 I must go home for a very short time, or there will bo 
 anxiety and perhaps search for me. Suppose you stay 
 here till I come back. It won't take me long if I go by car. 
 Please, Michael, don't do anything rash. There was an- 
 other good fellow, not so sensible as you, poor man ! who 
 tried to help me, and he got himself into dreadful trouble 
 over it. This man, Poubalov, is a terrible enemy, 
 Michael." 
 
 "Is he the sort that carries a gun in one pocket and a 
 razor in another?" asked Mike with perfect seriousness. 
 
 "He goes well armed," replied Clara, earnestly, "and 
 he has neither conscience nor fear. You know what I 
 want to accomplish, Michael, but if any life is risked to 
 save another's, it must be mine. 1 shall be very much dis- 
 pleased if anything serious happens while I am gone. 
 Wait for me, sure." 
 
 "All right, miss, "said Mike, resignedly; "if anything 
 happens after you get back, though, you bet I'll take a 
 hand in!" 
 
 And if there had been any temptation for a scr mmage 
 during Clara's absence, there is no manner of doubt that 
 
218 BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 
 
 Mike would have taken part in it- in spite of her injunc- 
 tions. 
 
 Clara found Louise in a very nervous condition. 
 
 "I have not heen so much worried about you, d far, " 
 she said, "for I have learned to feel confidence that you 
 can take care of yourself. Still I am relieved to see yon 
 safe again. My chief anxiety is about papa. 1 am afraid 
 there is something very troublesome in his business, and 
 that he is breaking down under the strain." 
 
 "I know that hie business has been troubling him very 
 much of late," responded Clara, "for he told me so, and 
 any one could see that he is much disturbed ; but how lias 
 he shown it to-day? I didn't see him at breakfast, you 
 know." 
 
 "No, he hurried to his office, as he told me later, to get. 
 some important mail. I didn't notice anything bej T ond his 
 usual nervous manner that is, his recent manner, at 
 breakfast time, but about half an hour after you had gone 
 he returned in great haste and inquired for you. I tld 
 him you had gone with Paul and another man who had 
 Lrivon you a clew, and that I couldn't tell when you would 
 return. He seemed very much disappointed, and walked 
 up and down the room several times. I asked him if he 
 had any news about Ivan. He answered abruptly: 'I 
 think so. I must see Clara.' 
 
 Startled by hope and fear at once, Clara sank into a 
 chair. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Louise in dismay, "don't please 
 break down now, for that isn't all, and I am so afraid 
 you'll need all your strength to-day." 
 
 "I am strong," said Clara, resolutely, but it was all she 
 could do to keep her voice steady ; "this day will see the 
 end one way or another, and 1 am prepared for it." 
 
 "I begged papa to tell me what he had heard, but he 
 refused to do so, almost roughly, too. 'Tell her to wait 
 when she comes in,' he said, and he went out again. He 
 c.ime back at luncheon time looking dreadfully excited. 
 His first words were an inquiry for you. The perspiration 
 
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 219 
 
 rolled down his face as he tried to be calm. He couldn't 
 eat or keep still. I tried to soothe him, but he wouldn't let 
 me. Then I insisted that he tell me what he had heard. 
 'I haven't heard anything,' he answered excitedly; 'who 
 said I had? I only surmise. I must see Clara/ We both 
 supposed you would come home to luncheon, and he 
 waited for you as long as his impatience would let him. 
 He went away about fifteen minutes ago, telling me again 
 to have you wait for him. I am dreadfully alarmed." 
 
 "So am I," said Clara in a low voice. She was begin- 
 ning to feel a sense of confusion, and she had to think 
 hard to convince herself that she had really left Paul on 
 guard at Bulfinch Place and Michael in the street near 
 the old tavern. It seemed to her essential that she should 
 be in both places, and here at home also. She had intended 
 to seek her uncle's assistance in any event, and now he 
 was vainly looking for her with some manner of important 
 and, it seemed likely, bad news. 
 
 "I am faint," she added after a moment; "perhaps I 
 can think better if I have a cup of tea." 
 
 Louise hastened to give the orders to the servant, and 
 a few minutes later Clara ate and drank. It was well 
 that she thought of luncheon, well that she could eat, for 
 her vital energies had been severely drawn on, and there 
 was much more ahead of her to do. After she had refreshed 
 herself she said : 
 
 "I cannot wait for uncle. I don't know what is the most 
 important thing to do, but I feel that I must not wait 
 here. I will send Michael, the cabman, back. Please see 
 that he has luncheon, and keep him here until uncle 
 returns. Then send him for me. He will know where to 
 find me, and I promise to come home at once unless 
 Well, send him to me, and I will return if I can." 
 
 Louise was tearful at Clara's departure, but she did not 
 try to detain her. It would have done no good, and she 
 knew it. 
 
 When Clara found Mike faithfully on guard just where 
 she had left him, she told him her programme, and 
 
220 BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 
 
 together they hunted for a place from which she could 
 keep her eyes on the old tavern, unobserved by Poubalov, 
 should he return. 
 
 They found it in the sitting-room of a house across the 
 way, the mistress of which, a plain, practical woman who 
 knew the woes of economy, was not averse to renting 
 for a few hours the apartment she seldom had time to use, 
 and never on a Monday. 
 
 This done, Mike drove to Mr. Pembroke's and hitched 
 his horse at the gate, with its nose in a feed-bag. The 
 young man made short work of the luncheon Louise had 
 prepared for him, and then promptly fell asleep over the 
 book she gave him to while away time with. 
 
 No good end will be served by reviewing the lonely 
 hours of Clara's vigil. It was with her, as with Paul, a 
 monotonous period, far harder to endure, in some sen 
 than the exciting and exacting experiences of the fore- 
 noon. 
 
 It will be enough, then, to say that when Mike came in 
 the edge of the evening to tell her that her uncle was at 
 home, she had seen no sign of Poubalov or Patterson, 
 or of life in the ancient tavern. 
 
 Reluctantly she quitted her post, because nothing kid 
 happened, willingly because she hoped for definite infor- 
 mation of some kind from her uncle. The coupe" was at 
 the door. 
 
 " Will you want me longer, miss?" asked Mike as she 
 came out, prepared to go home. 
 
 "I suppose you ought to go, " answered Clara, doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 "I dunno," said Mike, in the same manner; "me boss 
 will be wonderin' what's become of the rig." 
 
 The long day, spent so far as he could see to no purpose, 
 had tried him, and yet, had Clara said the word he would 
 have remained in one spot through the night. Clara did 
 not say it. 
 
 She, too, was fatigued, not more with the exertion of the 
 
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 221 
 
 jrst half of the day than with the tedious watching of 
 she second. 
 
 "You may drive me home," she said wearily; "and if 
 your employer will let you. you might come back in an 
 hour or two to see if I need you." 
 
 Mike, therefore, drove away, when he had left Clara at 
 Mr. Pembroke's gate. 
 
 She went up to the house, and Louise met her at the 
 door with a white, frightened face. 
 
 "Papa is worse than ever," she whispered; "go to him 
 at once. He is in the library. ' ' 
 
 Clara opened the door and went in. 
 
 Her uncle sat at the table, with his arms and head upon 
 it, and he did not look up until she touched him and spoke 
 to him. 
 
 "I am sorry, uncle dear," she said, "that I was not at 
 home when you wanted me." 
 
 He raised his head with a groan. 
 
 "It doesn't matter," he responded; "you could have 
 done nothing, as it has happened." 
 
 "Didn't you have some news for me, uncle? Tell me; I 
 can endure anything." 
 
 He tried to look at her, but a violent fit of trembling 
 seized him and he averted his eyes. 
 
 "I thought there was going to be news, good news," he 
 stammered, l 'but " and he shook his head sorrow- 
 fully. 
 
 "Do you mean that you have been disappointed, uncle?" 
 
 "Disappointed!" he repeated excitedly ; "worse! All is 
 lost, Clara, lost! Oh! that wily Russian!" 
 
 "What Russian, uncle? In mercy's name, tell me!" 
 
 "Your man Poubalov! He is " Mr Pembroke's 
 
 words stuck in his throat and he looked at Clara with 
 watery eyes. 
 
 "You have seen him then," she whispered faintly. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke nodded. 
 
 "And you have nothing to tell me?" 
 
 Her uncle opened his lips, tried to speak, and failing, 
 
222 BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 
 
 grasped the table with both hands while his eyes fixed 
 themselves in a stare and his face grew livid. 
 
 Clara ran to the sidehoard in the dining-room and 
 brought him a glass of brandy. 
 
 She poured a quantity down his throat till he gasped 
 with pain. 
 
 The spasm passed, but left him weak, well-nigh help- 
 less, and Clara summoned the servant to take him to his 
 room. 
 
 A neighboring physician was called in, and after half an 
 Lour or so he reported that Mr. Pembroke was in no 
 immediate danger. 
 
 Clara wished to see him, not, however, to torment 
 him with questions, but the physician advised that he 
 be left alone, with merely a servant, or Louise at hand 
 to attend to his needs. 
 
 "I am pretty certain, " added the doctor, "that your 
 presence would irritate him." 
 
 Clara withdrew to the drawing-room and tried to collect 
 her thoughts. She had not heard from Paul and it was 
 now eight o'clock. It could not be that nothing had hap- 
 penod during the long afternoon. Something surely had 
 occurred, and that through Poubalov, to prostrate her 
 
 uncle Ah ! she could not sit still. Her programme had 
 
 not been fully performed. She was useless here, in thr 
 way, the doctor had said that plainly enough. The ta\ 
 must be searched to-night, and if Paul were not there to 
 help, she must do without him. 
 
 Shu said nothing to Louise, or the servants. In thn 
 kitchen she found a caudlo and a box of matches. There 
 and elsewhere about the house were keys of various 
 descriptions. She took every one she could lay her hands 
 on, and thus provided, set forth alone. 
 
 It was a very quiet, retired street, on which the tavern 
 stood. Once it had been a main road, but traffic had long 
 since been diverted into other channels. She saw nobody 
 as she approached the gloomy structure with its overhang- 
 ing porch, and few lights were in the windows of adjacent 
 
BEHIND CLOSED DOOES. 223 
 
 houses. Under the porch she paused a moment in the 
 effort to still the beating of her heart. Then, instead of 
 making any attempt to pass through the front door, she 
 went around to the driveway that Paul had described, and 
 came to an entrance at the very back of the tavern. She 
 placed, a trembling hand upon the knob and sought to 
 insert a key in the lock but the door was opening before 
 her ! It was not only not locked, it had not been latched, 
 and the pressure of her hand had set it ajar. 
 
 With unsteady step and with her mind bewildered by 
 grewsome conjectures, Clara entered. She closed the door 
 behind her and lit the candle. Had Poiibalov, then, 
 returned when she had weakly given up the watching, and 
 abducted Ivan a second time? "What did her uncle's words 
 
 mean? "All is lost!" Was Ivan She did not permit 
 
 herself to frame the thought completely, but gathering all 
 her resolution set forth to accomplish her task. Not even 
 indulging in a useless regret that Paul was not with her, 
 she looked about the room in which she stood. It had once 
 been a kitchen, and a glance at it was enough. An open 
 door was before her and she passed through it. 
 
 This was evidently the dining-room, and several doors 
 were in view, only one of which was open. Feeling that 
 this indicated the course taken by Poubalov in carrying 
 Ivan out of the house from the room where he had been 
 confined, she pushed on, and passing through this door, 
 found herself in the front hall. There was a stairway at 
 her right hand, and doors at both right and left. Whither 
 should she go? The doors were closed and she chose the 
 stairs. 
 
 At the top were two corridors as well as the passage 
 leading to another flight of stairs. Haphazard she pro- 
 ceeded along the corridor to the left. It was tortuous, like 
 all hotel passages, and the floor was broken here and there 
 by steps, now up, now down. She passed many doors, but 
 all were closed. At the very end were two doors, almost 
 3ide by side, and as she stood hesitant, her blood chilled 
 and her heart leaped to her throat 
 
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 
 
 Was that a groan that she had heard behind one of those 
 doors? 
 
 Utterly unable to move, she listened with painful intent- 
 ness. Yes again it came, muffled, feeble, inarticulate, 
 but unmistakably the sound of a human voice. In her 
 agony of apprehension Clara found herself halting, from a 
 strange inability to decide which door to open. 
 
POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 
 
 
 
 Her indecision was but momentary! Every nerve ting- 
 ling with apprehension, her arms straining to embrace 
 her lover and allay his suffering, she threw open the door 
 at her right hand. Dusty furniture, faded hangings con- 
 fronted her, nothing else. Aroused by the disappointment 
 to a fever of anxiety and energy, she laid her hand upon 
 the other door, and above the rattling of the knob she 
 heard again the faint moan. The door was locked, and it 
 merely creaked complainingly when she exerted all the 
 pressure she could bring to bear against it. 
 
 She must work quickly. Holding the candle parallel to 
 the floor, she allowed several drops of the melted tallow 
 to fall, and on them she fastened her tiny torch upright. 
 Then she applied her keys, one after the other, to the 
 lock. It was a commonplace lock, a boot-buttoner would 
 have worked it, and the most commonplace key in her 
 collection at last turned freely and shot back the bolt, 
 She threw the door open and rushed in, and as she passed, 
 her flying skirts whisked out the candle flame and she 
 was in darkness, but in the flashing glance she had had of 
 the room she had seen the figure of a man bound to a chair, 
 a cloth wound about his head and across his mouth. 
 
 Clara did not seek the prisoner in the darkness. All 
 impulse to rush forward and throw her arms about 
 him had vanished ; in its place was an icy chill at the 
 heart and an infinite sob that lodged in her throat and 
 would not out. Hastily still but with nerveless limbs she 
 stooped and felt for the candle, and, having found it, she 
 again brought its wick to flickering life and raised it from 
 the floor. Standing then upon the threshold, one hand 
 
226 POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 
 
 clutching the jamb, she made certain that the fleeting 
 vision of surprise and disappointment was bitter and 
 amazing reality. The man bound upon the chair was old 
 Dexter. 
 
 He turned upon her his blinking eyes, rendered sight- 
 less for the moment by the mild glare of the candle flame. 
 He could stir no other part of his body by so much as a 
 hair's breadth. A long rope was coiled many times about 
 him, binding his legs to the chair rungs, his arms to his 
 side, and his head to the back of the chair. A pitiful 
 groan gurgled again in his throat as Clara held up the 
 candid and looked at him. 
 
 She stood thus not longer than a second, and then, hav- 
 ing placed the candle in a cup that stood on the mantel, 
 she sought to loose him. That he was concerned in s< 
 way with Ivan's disappearance she could not doubt, but 
 she allowed herself no thought or hesitation on that 
 account. His evident suffering appealed to her, and 
 plied her fingers hard and faat to undo the rope. The 
 knot was at hia back and it had not been drawn oxnvnu-ly 
 taut, the numerous coils in themselves being almost suffi- 
 cient to hold the prisoner in his place. Very shortly, 
 therefore, she had the free ends of the rope in hand, 
 she unwound them from Dextor's arms, still standing 
 behind his back and working above his head. \V 
 with his own hands he began to loose the coils In m his 
 lower limbs, she untied the handkerchief that held the gag 
 in his mouth, and Dexter was free. 
 
 He arose trembling. His limbs were stiff with long con- 
 st raint and he steadied himself by grasping the back of the 
 chair and leaning upon it. Breathing heavily and mut- 
 tering unintelligible curses he turned slowly about and 
 peered into Clara's eyes. 
 
 "Ha!" he gasped, "it's you, is it!" 
 
 His eyes, till then glowing with the rage of a baffled 
 will, now flamed with ungovernable hate. Clara, all lu-r 
 resolution gone, her very life seeming to depart from her, 
 yet stood ready to do what she could to help him, when 
 
POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 227 
 
 with a passionate shriek he suddenly extended his thin 
 quivering hands and seized her violently hy the throat. 
 Taken by surprise, her nervous energy exhausted by the 
 long strain and its attendant disappointments, Clara 
 made but slight resistance. Dexter clutched her with the 
 desperate strength of a maniao and pushed her back 
 against the wall. 
 
 What with the noise they made in moving across tha 
 floor, and Dexter's snarling curses, she did not hear the 
 sound of rapidly approaching steps along the corridor ; 
 but just as the frenzied old man had pressed her against 
 the wall, and when it seemed as if his fingers would lock 
 inextricably upon her throat, Poubalov dashed into the 
 room, laid hold of Dexter, wrenched him away from her, 
 picked him up bodily, bore him screaming across the 
 chamber and threw him heavily upon a bed. Then he 
 placed his hand over the old man's mouth and looked 
 around. Clara was now held hard and fast by another 
 man, and although Poubalov 's eyes glittered with a fierce 
 light, he made no effort to interfere. Paul Palovna 
 appeared in the doorway, his weary face glowing with joy 
 as he looked upon his friend restored at last to the arms 
 
 of her who loved him. 
 
 After a moment Strobel raised his head, and Clara, still 
 embracing him, followed his eyes with her own, almost 
 unbelieving that this meeting was reality, She turned her 
 gaze with Ivan's to where Poubalov sat on the bed forci- 
 bly quieting the ravings of old Dexter. 
 
 "Miss Hilman," said the spy in his deepest tones, "you 
 have been the hardest adversary I ever encountered. Last 
 evening you gave me two alternatives of action. You 
 told me to take you to your lover, or you would 
 pursue me relentlessly. You have made it a desperately 
 hard task for me, but to some extent at least I have 
 succeeded in evading both alternatives, and have, instead, 
 brought your lover to you." 
 
 Clara turned her wondering eyes to Ivan's for confirma- 
 tion and explanation. 
 
228 POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 
 
 "It is true, dearest," he said. "We owe my deliverance 
 to Poubalov, and without his efforts 1 shudder to think 
 what would have happened to me." 
 
 41 Is it possible," asked Clara in a subdued voice, "that 
 you have really been trying to find Ivan all along?" 
 
 "Miss Hilman, " replied Poubalov, "until this Monday 
 morning I did not know where Mr. Strobel was, and I had 
 not the least suspicion of the truth until late last Friday 
 night." 
 
 "Let me sit down," said Clara faintly, "I cannot grasp 
 it all. Tell me, Ivan." 
 
 Ivan had conducted her to the chair wherein she had 
 found Dexter a prisoner, and at her last words Poubalov 
 turned away his head with a bitter smile. Not even yet 
 would she trust him to speak the truth ! 
 
 "We owe our separation," said Ivan, "to the villain who 
 lies there under Poubalov 's hand and to him alone. To 
 Poubalov we owe the deliverance. This man Dexter, Clara, 
 is a money lender of the most outrageous type. Your 
 uncle, to tide over a business depression, borrowed nearly 
 a hundred thousand dollars from him. This debt was due 
 to Dexter two days after what was to have been our wed- 
 ding. I am telling you what Poubalov learned after his 
 suspicions were attracted in the right direction. Tell her, 
 my friend ! You can do it better than I." 
 
 "Miss Hilman will not believe me," replied Poubalov. 
 
 "Oh, but I will!" cried Clara starting from the chair 
 impulsively as she realized the situation. She went to 
 the bed where the spy still sat with his hand over Dex- 
 ter 'a mouth, and hold out her hand. "Won't you forgive 
 me?" she faltered; "I know I have cruelly misjudged 
 
 you/ 
 
 Poubalov raised her hand to his lips and was about to 
 answer when Dexter, the pressure removed from his 
 month, scrambled to his knees, clinging to the Russian 
 for support, and screamed, "Pay me! pay me! you're not 
 married yet and you've got to pay me! I'll ruin Mat Pem- 
 broke! Pay me! I'll " 
 
POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 229 
 
 The old man choked, pawed with both palsied hands at 
 his collar and would have fallen from the bed if Poubalov 
 had not turned hastily from Clara and caught him. Clara 
 shrank away, not terrified but shocked at Dexter's appear- 
 ance, while Palovna hurried across the room to lend a 
 hand. 
 
 "He is dying!" exclaimed Clara faintly. 
 
 "No, Miss Hilman, not dying," responded Poubalov 
 quickly, "but he is a very sick man. Thanks, Paul 
 Palovna, but I can get on better with him alone. You may 
 go ahead of me, if you please, and try to find a physi- 
 cian " 
 
 "I saw a doctor's sign near the street corner, " inter- 
 rupted Palovna. 
 
 "Summon him at once, then," said Poubalov who was 
 bearing old Dexter as tenderly as a nurse might carry a 
 sick child; "I will await you at the door and," addressing 
 Clara, "be with you here in a moment if you would hear 
 the hidden history of your troubles." 
 
 "Better here, sweetheart," whispered Strobel, "here 
 where I passed my week of death than in any other 
 place!" 
 
 It was several minutes before Poubalov returned. He 
 carried Dexter not only to the door but through the street 
 to the physician's house where medical skill was promptly 
 applied with a view to restoring the miser's wreck of a 
 body to something like life. If Dexter's course had run 
 tranquilly he might, perhaps, have lingered like a noxious 
 weed, for a long time upon the earth, but after the com- 
 plex shocks of disappointment, imprisonment and fear, 
 he had thrown the total of his nervous and physical ener- 
 gies into that mad attack upon Clara. There remained, 
 then, but the dregs of his vicious vitality, and these 
 sustained him less than the length of the night. He was 
 still alive but the end was plainly in sight when Poubalov 
 left him to rejoin the lovers. 
 
 "Miss Hilman," he said the moment he eame in, "yonr 
 judgment of me has been marvellously correct, It is truej 
 
230 POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 
 
 that you have erred in detail and believed me deceiving 
 you when I was doing my utmost to put the truth before 
 you ; but it is impossible for me to be straightforward. 
 Mr. Strobelhas said that his deliverance is due to me; that 
 is true, but no credit is due me for generosity or nobility 
 of conduct. What I have done in the way of searching 
 for him and restoring him to liberty, has been done 
 entirely in accordance with my nature. My desire to 
 appear well in your eyes might lead me to vain reflections 
 on what my nature might have been if the circumstances 
 of my life had been other than they wore, but past cir- 
 cumstances cannot be changed and nothing can pallia to the 
 fact that long practice as a detector of stealthy criminals 
 has made me habitually devious in my methods." 
 
 "Mr. Poubalov," Clara began gently, but the Russian 
 would not let her utter the deprecating words that were 
 on her lips. 
 
 "1 could not change my methods," he said, "and more- 
 over, there were circumstances connected \\ith this mat- 
 ter that made it impossible for me to take you fully into 
 my confidence. Don't you recall how I refused to answer, 
 or evaded your questions? I would not lie to you, and I 
 could not tell you the truth, for I was charged with a 
 message from the czar to Mr. Strobel and to none other 
 could I give it, and not to him unless I were satisfied of 
 certain things, which, until Litizki's attempt upon my 
 life were in doubt." 
 
 "You must have suffered keenly," said Clara softly; 
 "tell me all now if you can." 
 
 "His imperial majesty, whom God preserve, " resumed 
 Poubalov, "saw fit to effect a complete restoration of the 
 estates of the Strobel family, which had been confiscated 
 on account of supposed treason, and to recall all the mem- 
 bers of the family from exile. There was but one doubt in 
 his august mind, and that related to your lover, Ivan. If 
 he were engaged in sending pernicious literature to Rus- 
 sia, or in any other way fomenting the discontent that 
 affects some of our people, the decree of restoration could 
 
POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 231 
 
 not issue. I came to America solely to discover what Ivan 
 Strobel was doing and thinking. I could not leave the 
 country until I had found him unless I chose to disregard 
 the wishes of my sovereign. Therefore, when he disap- 
 peared, 1 bent every energy to finding him. It is the habit 
 of men like Litizki to invest me in their imaginations 
 with extraordinary if not superhuman powers, and it is a 
 part of my policy to encourage their delusion. But I am 
 only an ordinary man, Miss Hilman, and in your hands I 
 have proved to be as weak as the weakest." 
 
 He paused and looked somberly at the floor. 
 
 "I have been sadly puzzled by this case," he continued 
 after a moment without raising his eyes; "nothing ever 
 seemed so impenetrable a mystery. I was sincere in 
 thinking the Nihilists had had something to do with it. 
 After seeing you I was certain that no other woman could 
 have lead Strobel away ; but I went to New York for 
 much the same reason that you did, I suppose, hoping for 
 some clew. 1 had about given up the Nihilistic theory 
 when Litizki's assault and some inquiries I made shortly 
 after, set that at rest completely. When Billings called a^ 
 your house I determined to track him. Why not tell you 
 then about it? Ask yourself if you would have believed 
 me. You would have said that I was already in league 
 with Billings." 
 
 "I did think so," murmured Clara guiltily. 
 
 "And I presume you thought I was afraid to face him. 
 Yes? Then you see now that I had to operate alone. I 
 was hiding in the shrubbery when he left your house. It 
 was dark, but you lingered at the gate and so prevented 
 me from leaving my place of concealment until Billings 
 had got so far away that I could not find him. But I had 
 seen his face. I readily saw that Litizki was following me 
 that night and I purposely gave him a chase in order to 
 mask my real purpose. 
 
 "When we left the train in the Park Square Station 
 after our return from New York on Friday evening, I recog- 
 nized Billings among those upon the station platform. I 
 
232 POUBALO V SUCCEEDS. 
 
 left you abruptly to follow him. He waited for the i 
 New York train which followed us in direct ly, for 
 were late, you remember, and there met the wretch w: 
 you found imprisoned here. I will not enter into 
 details of my all-night watching and inquiring, but will 
 confine myself to the results. First, to jump over sov 
 steps, I found that Dexter was going to pack Billings off 
 to Europe, and I followed to the steamer, hoping for a 
 chance to speak with Billings, for I can usually worm or 
 frighten secrets from guilty men. Dexter stuck clo- 
 to him, however, and I returned from a trip to Bo- 
 Light having seen both Billings and Litizki in the st 
 age." 
 
 "Litizki!" exclaimed Clara. 
 
 44 Yes. By tracking Dexter and employing my usual 
 methods, I got acquainted with his man, Patterson. It 
 was he who overcame Mr. Strobel in the closed carriage a 
 week ago to-day, and who left him tin TO bound and 
 pofied by a drug that ho had forced down his thoat while 
 he went through tin- Park Square Station to give color to 
 the theory that Dexter gave to the police that Strobrl had 
 gone to New York. Dexter at first declared that he had 
 seen Strobel buy his tirkrt, but later he weakend on that 
 point, saying he might have been mistaken. He had e 
 enough for Detective Bowker, however, and the police 
 investigation wa* pursued half heartedly. 
 
 "Well, I looked up Dexter's affairs and I found that he 
 had a grip on Mr. Pembroke." 
 
 "Don't tell mo my uncle was guilty of " 
 
 "No, Miss Hilman," interrupted Poubalov, "Mr. Pem- 
 broke had nothing to do with the abduction of Mr. Strobel. 
 Dexter is the one villain in the case, and although Mr. 
 Pembroke's conduct may be open to question in one re- 
 spect, criticism would be finical for I don't see how he 
 could have acted otherwise. I shall have to go back a long 
 way now, but I will be brief. Matthew Pembroke had a 
 brother, Charles, and a sister, Sophie. You, Miss Hilman, 
 are her daughter. You know, of course, the family differ- 
 
PO UBALOV SUCCEEDS. 233 
 
 ence and the occasion of it. Your mother married against 
 the wishes of your Uncle Charles, her elder brother and 
 her guardian, and when she was left a widow he declined 
 to help her. You Uncle Matthew was kinder, and when 
 she died he took you into his own home. Charles was 
 apparently relentless to the end, and there was never any 
 communication between you and him ; but when he died, 
 a short time ago, it was found that he had remembered 
 you in his will. Two days before the wedding day Mr. 
 Pembroke was notified that you were heiress to one 
 hundred thousand dollars if you were unmarried, The 
 will provided that in the event of your being a maiden, 
 the entire sum was to be held by Matthew Pembroke, and 
 administered by him in your interest. If you were mar- 
 ried, twenty-five thousand dollars was to be set aside for 
 you, and the balance was to go to educational institutions 
 specifically named. 
 
 "Mr. Pembroke was worrying about his obligation to 
 Dexter, which he could not meet, and in his fretting he 
 mentioned this to Dexter. He did not tell you at first, 
 because he feared you might think you ought to postpone 
 your wedding, and he did not regard such etiquette as 
 necessary. Without saying a word to Pembroke, this 
 wretch, Dexter, plotted and effected the abduction, thus 
 compelling you to remain a maiden. The bequest was 
 immediately available and he brought all possible pres- 
 sure to bear upon Mr. Pembroke to make use of it for wip- 
 ing out the debt. It was absolute ruin to him if he did 
 not. Mr. Pembroke suspected Dexter, but what could he 
 do? He had nothing but improbable conjecture to work 
 upon, and Dexter applied the screws mercilessly. They 
 went to New York to make arrangements for collecting the 
 inheritance. While there they were both in terror lest 
 you discover the truth, for once at least you saw them 
 with the man who could have revealed the financial secret 
 of the situation. You remember looking in at the hotel 
 entrance and seeing Dexter, your uncle and a third man 
 walking in the corridor? The third man was the executor 
 
234 POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 
 
 of your Uncle Charles' estate, and Dexter walked him out 
 of your sight as quickly as possible, lest troublesome 
 questions should be asked. 
 
 "It all came down to this, at last, that with your signa- 
 ture to-day to a document that the executors of the estate 
 had prepared, and which you would have signed readily 
 at your uncle's request, the money would have been 
 turned over. The document came in the first mail, but 
 Dexter did not turn up, and Mr. Pembroke could not find 
 him. That was because, shortly after breakfast, I came 
 here and found the villain, at last, giving Strobel sufficient 
 nourishment to keep him alive. I bound him to the chair, 
 but didn't release Strobel at the moment. After a mental 
 struggle that I will not describe, I had determined to 
 take him to you, Miss Hilman, and I was too proud to 
 permit my plans to be balked. Moreover, I believed your 
 uncle guilty, and I was determined that everybody who 
 had been concerned in making you unhappy, should 
 suffer the most extreme tortures that I could inflict. I 
 had already bought and frightened Patterson. It was 
 through him that I discoverd this placee, a hotel Dexter 
 had seized for debt. After I had succeeded in eluding 
 your pursuit this morning, I attacked Mr. Pembroke. I 
 spent nearly the whole afternoon with him, and, to be 
 brief, I got the story from him and drove him to the 
 verge of insanity. He does not know yet what happened 
 to Strobel, although he is aware that he is safe. 
 
 "Having thus punished Mr. Pembroke, unjustly I will 
 admit, to some extent, I came here and took away Strobel. 
 He was very weak and suffering from the drug which 
 had frequently been administered to him with his food. I 
 am familiar with such matters, and I had in my room an 
 antidote. By your attempted pursuit of me you had pre- 
 vented me from going there to get it, so I had to take Stro- 
 bel with me to Bulfinch Place before restoring him to you. 
 
 We had a little scene at the lodging-house " Poubalov 
 
 paused here and glanced with a smile at Palovna. 
 
 "Is it any wonder, Alexander Poubalov?" cried 
 
POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. 235 
 
 Palovna, flushing; "I regarded you as our enemy, and 
 when I saw you with Strobel helpless in your possession, 
 my worst suspicions were confirmed. I " 
 
 "You could have shot me with a clear conscience! I un- 
 derstand and I understood then. You are a loyal friend, 
 Paul Palovna, and I owe you my life, not on this occa- 
 sion, perhaps, but at that other time no matter! The 
 past is past and things are as they are ! The short of it is, 
 Miss Hilman, that we satisfied Palovna that matters were 
 not as bad as they looked, and, as you see, he came along 
 with us. We went to Mr. Pembroke's. As you were not 
 there, we came directly here. And that, I think, is the 
 whole story." 
 
 Clara was weeping silently, and Ivan stood with his 
 arm around her. There was a moment of silence, and 
 then the party was disturbed by a hubbub in the hall 
 below. It proved to be nothing serious. Mike had been 
 ordered by his employer to return. He, too, had called at 
 Mr. Pembroke's and so found his way to the tavern, and 
 coming upon Patterson he had proceeded to thump him. 
 Poubalov separated the antagonists, and went back to the 
 chamber with the candle. The others stood under the 
 porch, for the front door had been opened by Patterson, 
 until he returned. 
 
 "If there is anything more to be said, " he remarked, 
 "we'd better go to Mr. Pembroke's." 
 
 Poubalov did not remain long with the lovers whom he 
 had reunited. The supreme will of his imperial majesty, 
 he gravely declared, would not permit of his lingering a 
 moment after the accomplishment of his mission. It 
 would give him profound pleasure to report that Mr. Stro- 
 bel was too firmly attached to America to feel, much less 
 commit hostility to the empire of the czar. And so he 
 took his leave, Clara alone realizing that all well-meant 
 efforts to detain him were calculated to give him needless 
 pain. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke recovered rapidly under the relief occa- 
 sioned by the reappearance of Ivan, for whose absence 
 
POUBALol SUCCEE1 
 
 he felt vaguely accountable. Witli the death of Dexter the 
 business pressure was so far relieved that ho could see hia 
 way clear from the trouble, for all he had noodod was the 
 limo to turn in that the wretched miser would not grant. 
 
 But, little time was allowed to elapse before the strange 
 interlude in Clara's wedding was brought to an end. A 
 few days after the ceremony Ivan read a brief cable dis- 
 patch announcing the arrival of the Cophalonia at Queens- 
 town. 
 
 "A steerage passenger," it said, "traveling as Nicolaie- 
 viteh, but known to be one Liti/ki, of Boston, jumped 
 from the rail and was drowned shortly after the steamer 
 sighted the Irish coast. 11 
 
 "Poor Litizki!" thought Ivan, "he died for us," and he 
 rut the item out to show to his \vifo if at some time she 
 should ask whether anything had been heard of the little 
 tailor. 
 
 KND} 
 
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