It was not the oddity of the speaker’s remark so much as his voice that attracted Wilfrid. That voice he could have sworn to out of ten thousand. The speaker was none other than Izak, the driver, the companion of his long wintry journey from Kowno to St. Petersburg. What was he doing in these gardens upon a night when entrance was denied to all save persons of rank? Perhaps he had left off his profession of driver to become one of the many servitors of Prince Sumaroff. Peering warily through the shrubbery Wilfrid caught a glimpse of four men, three sitting upon a rustic seat and a fourth, Izak, standing in the attitude of addressing them. All were masked, and all clad in the chocolate-coloured velvet and gold lace that marked the livery of Prince Sumaroff. But something told Wilfrid that, in spite of this attire, Izak was no lackey; the dress was assumed for that night only. The man no longer carried himself with an obsequious and servile air. He spoke with authority, and even with dignity, leading Wilfrid to suspect that he was a spy of the Government, and one occupying as high a post as is bestowed upon these agents. Desirous as Wilfrid was of finding the Duchess, there was something in the talk of these men that fixed him to the spot. “The Neva’s waters are deep!” repeated Izak. “Hush, speak low,” said one of the men. “We are safe enough here,” returned Izak. “No one will wander so far as this from the palace. That is why I have chosen this nook for our little meeting. Now, what would you say if I were to talk of a thousand roubles to each?” “That you are lying!” “I guessed you would say so. You see what I am lifting with my hands?” “Earth!” “Earth it is, our common mother. I place it upon my head, and what does that signify?” “That you are on oath.” “So; the most solemn oath known among us. By this, then, know that I am speaking the truth when I say that, if we do it, a thousand roubles to each will be our reward.” An interval of silence followed this promise. “How did he find out that she was here?” asked one of the men presently. “Her mask accidentally slipped off.” “But if it’s now on her face again how are we to recognise her?” “By her dress. There are five hundred ladies here to-night, so I’m told, but only one with her costume. She wears a grey domino——” “So do many other ladies.” “Let me finish. There _are_ many grey dominoes here—true, but look well at them, and you will see that their material is velvet, silk, or something equally costly, whereas hers is modest serge trimmed with silver cord, the simplest costume of the whole ball. Her mask, too, is of grey silk.” “What made her venture here to-night.” “She wishes to see the Czarina.” “And she may be having her wish at this moment.” “Hardly. She must wait till the supper-hour comes.” “Why so?” “O silly! Aren’t all the ladies masked? No one knows who’s who till the general unmasking at supper-time.” “And when she sees the Czarina—what then?”