“Yes, I do,” she said, and raising herself upon her elbow, she continued earnestly: “Listen, Anton! You are now my husband, although I know I am dying. Nothing can save me, and I shall not live to inflict upon that cursed spy the punishment he deserves. I know——” “Is he a spy?” I interrupted breathlessly. “Yes. When you had left Petersburg they admitted him into the Circle, believing him to be trustworthy. Soon afterwards, however, the police arrested nearly the whole of the members, and had I not been the daughter of the British ambassador I should have been arrested also. Inquiries I afterwards made proved conclusively that Paramòn Markoff—or Nicolas Kassatkin, as he calls himself—was an officer of Secret Police; that he was admitted to the Circle by means of forged introductions, and that through his instrumentality over one hundred members of our Cause were exiled.” “But what proof have you?” I asked excitedly, remembering how much Kassatkin knew of the conspiracy we were forming. “The papers you hold in your hand will prove what I allege,” she replied. Then she continued wildly: “Find the spy. Let death be his reward for ingenuity and double-dealing. Kill him! Promise me! Do not let him send to Siberia other innocent supporters of the Cause!” Clutching my hand, she added, “Tell me that you will avenge the deaths of the men and women who fell victims to his treachery. Promise me!” “I promise,” I replied. “If he is a spy he shall die.” “Ah! At last he will receive his well-merited punishment. And he had the audacity to love me!” She uttered the words feebly, sinking wearily back upon her pillow. Her face had changed, becoming paler and more drawn. She did not move, and I stood watching, not knowing what to do. The excitement had proved too much for her. Suddenly she opened her eyes, and whispered my name. Then she gave vent to a long, deep-drawn sigh, shuddered, and lay strangely still. I knew then that my wife had passed away! I was kissing her pale lips and closing the glazing eyes, when the footman entered hurriedly, and whispered that I was required in the library at once. He dashed downstairs, and I followed. On going into the room a sight met my gaze which I shall never forget, for, lying stretched upon the couch was his lordship, writhing in the horrible agonies of death from poisoning. A small bottle standing upon the table and a broken champagne glass had but one tale to tell. He had taken his own life! The clergyman was kneeling by his side, but in a few moments the old Earl gave a final sigh, and ere I had realised it, he passed to the land that lies beyond human ken.