He spoke as one who regretted sincerely the indiscretions of a friend and would have saved him from them. Gessner, upon his side, desired as little talk of the Boriskoffs as might be. If he had told the truth, he knew that Alban Kennedy would walk out of his house never to return. For it had been his own accomplices who had persuaded old Paul to return to Poland--and the Russian police were waiting for him across the frontier. Any hour might bring the news of his arrest. The poor fanatic who babbled threats would be under lock and key before many hours had passed, on his way to Saghalin perhaps--and his daughter might starve if she were obstinate enough. All this was in Gessner's mind, but he said nothing of it. His quick perception set a finger upon Alban's difficulty and instantly grappled with it. "We must do what we can for the old fellow," he said lightly, "I am already paying for the daughter's education and will see to her future. You would be wise, Alban, to cut all those connections finally. I want you to take a good place in the world. You have a fine talent, and when you come into my business, as I propose that you shall do, you will get a training you could not better in Europe. Believe me, a financier's position is more influential in its way than that of kings. Here am I living in this quiet way, rarely seen by anybody, following my own simple pleasures just as a country gentleman might do, and yet I have but to send a telegram over the wires to make thousands rich or to ruin them. You will inherit my influence as you will inherit my fortune. When you are Anna's husband, you must be my right hand, acting for me, speaking for me, learning to think for me. This I foresee and welcome--this is what I offer you to-night. Now go to Anna and speak to her for yourself. She is waiting for you in the drawing-room and you must not tease her. Go to her, my dear boy, and say that which I know she wishes to hear." He did not doubt the issue--who would have done? Standing there with his hand upon Alban's shoulder, he believed that he had found a son and saved his daughter from the peril of her heritage. So is Fate ironical. For as they talked, Fellows appeared in the garden and announced the Russian, who carried to Hampstead tidings of a failure disastrous beyond any in the eventful story of this man's life. CHAPTER XIX THE PLOT HAS FAILED The Russian appeared to be a young man, some thirty years of age perhaps. His dress was after the French fashion. He wore a shirt with a soft embroidered front and a tousled black cravat which added a shade of pallor to his unusually pale face. When he spoke in the German tongue, his voice had a pleasant musical ring, even while it narrated the story of his friend's misfortune. "We have failed, mein Heir," he said, "I come to you with grievous news. We have failed and there is not an hour to lose."