Suddenly, words broke on my ear. I was not alone, as I had imagined. As I listened I heard a man’s short, derisive laugh as he replied to an eager question put by a woman. I recognised the tones of the latter as those of Sophie. “Then you are not afraid of these murderous Nihilists?” she was asking. “Are they not dreadful people?” “Bah!” he replied confidently. “We are fully able to cope with such scum. Siberia is large enough to hold them all, and before long we shall stamp out the spirit of revolt from among the scoundrels. I myself have sent dozens of Nihilists to the mines, and for that reason my life has been threatened.” “And you are not afraid of their vengeance?” she inquired. “Scarcely,” he replied, laughing. “The cowardly idiots dare not touch me.” “But they are fearless,” she observed. “Their emissaries are everywhere. They might kill you!” “They are perfectly at liberty to do their worst,” he replied grimly. “But why talk of such a subject, when all here are so gay? You look charming!” “Thanks for the compliment,” she said. “But to hear about Nihilists always interests me. I suppose you sometimes discover plots, do you not?” “Yes, very often,” he answered. “Indeed, I am causing investigations to be made now, at Moscow, and have obtained information which implicates between thirty and forty persons. I shall be returning to Russia in about a fortnight, and as the life of the Tzar must be protected, I shall give orders for the arrest and transportation of the whole batch of conspirators. But surely one so happy as yourself ought not to trouble your head about such things,” he added, laughing. Then I heard him utter words of love, and the sound of a kiss fell upon my ear. Presently, when he had declared his affection, and she had admitted in faltering tones that she loved him, they rose and passed out into the ball-room. I followed them unobserved. The man upon whose arm she leaned, radiant and content, was Captain Feodor Matvyèich, a tall fellow of thirty-five, with a well-shaped head, and in whose fiery grey eyes there lurked a joyous twinkle, which told of a right merry nature within. He was the very incarnation of robust, mirthful manhood, and I knew that during the brief period he had been in England he had been exceedingly popular among the attachés. I had no idea, however, that he was the Chief of the Secret Police of Moscow, and that he was in London endeavouring to elucidate some mystery connected with the plot he had discovered. When, shortly before the dawn, Sophie and I were driving home, I remarked that the Captain was a pleasant fellow, in order to cause her to talk of him. But with a pre-occupied air she merely answered, “Yes, charming.” Then she turned our conversation into a different channel. A few days later Matvyèich called, and I was introduced by Sophie as her brother. Soon he became a constant visitor, and we three frequently dined and afterwards went to places of amusement together.