12. Is he paying attention to any woman? If so, who is she and where does she live? Where do they meet? 13. Who has visited him in the course of the week? At what times? a.m. or p.m.? 14. Has any one (male or female) spent the night in his rooms? If so, what person or persons? Their residence? 15. Has he ever been in a state of intoxication? 16. Does he receive letters or papers from Russia? 17. What hour is best for his arrest? All these questions were answered with a minuteness of detail that was astounding, the document being signed by the officer of surveillance, and countersigned by General Martianoff. Absorbed in the perusal of the report, I did not notice the presence of the servant, who had entered stealthily, and suddenly stood before me, causing me to start and replace the paper hurriedly. “Anton Prèhznev,” he said, “you had better leave before the General returns.” “You know me?” I gasped in bewilderment. For answer he smiled, and gave me the sign of our Order. “How came you in the spy’s service?” I asked. “What is your name?” “I’m Paul Shiryàlov. The General engaged me as his servant when he visited Petersburg last year.” “You know the contents of the papers brought here by the spies?” “I make copies of them all and forward them to the Petersburg Circle.” “Has Lebedeff been warned?” “Yes. He has sold his business, and is arranging to leave Paris for London.” “And what of Natalya, his daughter?” “Hark!—the General has returned. Quick!” He almost dragged me through a door which led into an adjoining room, whence I passed out upon the staircase. I hurried downstairs, and a few moments afterwards was walking along the Rue de la Pepinière towards my hotel. * * * * * A loud knocking at the door of my bedroom and a voice demanding admittance aroused me. When I unlocked the door, Paramòn Pouzàtov, a refugee, rushed in. “They have arrested Lebedeff!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “Last night four _sergents de ville_ went to the house, searched, and discovered some bombs in course of manufacture and some literature from the secret press. He was arrested and taken to the Prefecture.” “But he was warned in time to escape,” I said. “Yes, but he is now in their grip.” “Where is Natalya?” “She went out yesterday afternoon, and has not yet returned.” “Very well,” I said. “But we must secure his release at all hazards.” Paramòn seated himself and chatted to me while I dressed. It puzzled me that the Paris police should have found explosives on the tobacconist’s premises, especially after the ample warning that Shiryàlov had given.