“Yes; nevertheless I can still do my work. One can feel to cut and polish gems better than using the keenest eyesight. For three months prior to coming here I was employed at the Roeterseiland factory at Amsterdam. Do you know any one in London who wants a workman?” I was silent. I happened to know a wealthy Jew diamond merchant, Goldberg by name, who lived in that dingy thoroughfare which contains more wealth, perhaps, than the whole of the rest of London—Hatton Garden. “Ah! you do not speak,” he said entreatingly, laying his thin hand upon my arm. “If you do know any one, give me an introduction to them, and as a Russian and a brother, I shall thank you.” “Yes, do,” urged Elyòna, jumping to her feet and placing her arm affectionately around her father’s neck. “He must do some work, or we shall starve.” I hesitated, reflected upon the curious fact that this man, being an escaped “political,” was not included in our list. It was useless to give him the Nihilist sign, for he could not see. “Well,” I said presently, “I know one gentleman, a dealer in gems, who frequently employs lapidaries. If you like I’ll speak to him to-morrow.” Both father and daughter thanked me effusively, and I took a leaf from my pocket-book and wrote Goldberg’s name and address, at the same time promising to call personally and interest myself on his behalf. Soon afterwards I bade them farewell, and walked homeward through the city in a very meditative frame of mind. Within a week of my first meeting with Karelin, he was engaged by Goldberg, who found him an excellent workman. The delicate sense of touch that he had developed caused him to exercise far greater care over his work than the ordinary lapidary, and Goldberg expressed a belief that the old man was the best diamond polisher in London. I was glad I had been enabled to render the blind man a service, while on his part he continually overwhelmed me with heartfelt gratitude. We met frequently, and although I refrained from explaining my connection with the Revolutionary Party, I introduced him to several minor Members of Parliament and other persons who were advocates of Russian freedom, and who made the National Liberal Club their headquarters. The old blind man and his daughter were invited to numbers of houses, and much sympathy was shown them. Elyòna was petted by the ladies, and her father appeared never tired of describing the terrors of administrative exile. Once or twice he lectured; on the first occasion at the National Liberal Club, and afterwards at various halls in the metropolis. The title of his lecture was “My Life in Siberia,” and great crowds assembled to hear him, while the newspapers reported his observations and criticisms at unusual length.