Half an hour afterwards I called at General Martianoff’s, when Shiryàlov handed me secretly a sheet of paper folded small, which I quickly transferred to my pocket. It was a detailed account of the movements of the Chief of Secret Police during the last twenty-four hours. At midnight the prominent members of the Circle of Paris met at a house in La Glacière. I produced reports and papers which conclusively showed that General Martianoff was the head of the Russian spies in the French capital, and Shiryàlov, who also attended, made a statement. The manner in which Lebedeff had been watched, arrested, and sent back to Petersburg had aroused the ire and hatred of every man present, and it was unanimously agreed that the ex-Governor of Mstislavl, being a sworn enemy of Russian freedom, should be sentenced to death. The president of the Tribunal then took a number of pieces of paper, and upon one sketched roughly the death-emblem of our Order. The papers were then folded carefully, placed in a box, and every man drew one. The drawing was carried on in silence. The one to whose lot it fell to strike the fatal blow made no sign, and none in that assembly were aware who had been selected to carry out the sentence. Silence is always preserved in such cases in order to ensure absolute secrecy, and to give the murderer a better chance of evading the police. That night, as Shiryàlov and I were returning to Paris together, I noticed he appeared thoughtful and morose, and asked the reason. “I must leave the General’s service to-morrow,” he replied. “There is an urgent reason that I should do so.” “Could I not apply for the situation?” I suggested, as a scheme suddenly entered my mind. “Yes, why not?” he said, brightening. “You could then continue watching.” “Very well,” I replied. “Give notice to-night, and I will apply at mid-day to-morrow. I already have a recommendation as a valet and trustworthy servant,” I added, laughing. “Who from?” “A Captain of Cossacks with whom I travelled a few years ago.” Then he smiled and once more assumed his usual gaiety. A week afterwards I was duly installed as valet to the General, while Shiryàlov had been engaged as messenger to the Franco-Russian Club in the Rue Royale. My work was not particularly heavy, for the chief _mouchard_ was out for greater part of each day, which gave me opportunities for investigating and making copies of the reports of espionage that arrived daily from male and female secret agents. One morning, about three weeks after the meeting of the Circle at La Glacière, I chanced to take up a paper, and my eyes fell upon a telegram from Petersburg, stating that Israel Lebedeff had been tried by court-martial, found guilty of an attempt upon the life of the Emperor, and had been sentenced to hard labour for life in Siberia.