Drawing her cloak closer around her, she walked across to where I stood. “Paper, lady?” I asked. “_Globe_, _Echo_, _Star_?” “Give me anything you like, Anton Prèhznev,” she replied in Russian, at the same time uttering a pass-word that is known to the Russian Revolutionary Party throughout the world. I stood for a moment amazed. Noticing my surprise, she exclaimed in a low tone, “Give me a paper.” I gave her one, and in return she handed me a penny and a piece of paper folded small. “An order from the Executive—conceal it,” she said, and turning quickly, entered a hansom that was standing near and drove away. Presently, when no one was watching, I walked up Catherine Street and opened the note under a street lamp. The contents were brief, but to the point. “The bearer is Sophie Zagarovna. Call upon her at 11 a.m. to-morrow at 76, The Terrace, Richmond, and render all assistance possible.—PAUL PÉTROFF.” Sophie Zagarovna! I knew her by reputation and had been anxious to meet her, for she was one of the most daring of the Zurich Nihilists. The boldness and success of her plots had more than once caused them to be a source of comment throughout the world. It was she who, alone and unaided, entrapped General Yagodkin, Chief of the Moscow Police, and shot him dead because of the wholesale arrests of innocent persons which he made after the attempt to wreck the Winter Palace. For the past three years she had lived in Zurich, where she had been the idol of the students. Young, refined, and eminently beautiful, she was queen of that centre of learning, and the Russians and Germans studying at the colleges vied with one another to secure her smiles. She knew well the advantages of beauty, and influenced her young admirers to join the Party, afterwards prevailing upon them to go to Russia and perform various risky missions. In more than one instance a young man, madly in love with her and enthusiastic in the cause of freedom, had journeyed to the land of his birth determined to strike a blow against Tzardom in order to secure her favour, yet, alas! the result has been fatal—either death, or the mines. Vain, and fond of admiration, she had numbers worshipping at her shrine, yet through all the breath of scandal had never touched her. Indeed, so intensely bent was she upon her purpose, that her heart appeared steeled against love, and she treated those who paid her court with queenly reserve. Of her parentage or real name nothing was known except that she took the oath in Petersburg and afterwards went to Switzerland, where she speedily developed into one of the most fearless of Terrorists. I returned to the theatre-entrance after reading the order from Pétroff. I saw my man emerge, and followed him to the Westminster Palace Hotel, where he was staying.