“Supposing the secret of the rendezvous has become known, what more likely than that a band of Cossacks will be despatched to the spot to carry you off before the Czar arrives? Now this Ruric resides a little way past the seventh verst-post in a hut not visible from the road, which at this point is bordered on both sides by dense forest. He dwells on the left side of the road; the appointed glade, you say, is on the right. While you remained concealed within his hut, he can reconnoitre for you without exciting suspicion. Should he report the presence of police or soldiers, you will know that you have been betrayed, in which case you will do well not to show yourself. As for me, I will join you later, not leaving the city till the last moment to mark if anything suspicious takes place. When you are passing the seventh verst-post Ivor will drive the carriage close to the trees, and when opposite the path spring out without stopping the carriage, and by following the path you’ll come to the hut. Meanwhile, the carriage will drive on, returning to the city by a circuitous route, so that should any mounted spies be following, they’ll be thrown off the scent. For the present, farewell, and good fortune attend you.” With that the Marquis wrung Wilfrid’s hand and accompanied him to the door, and having first taken a precautionary glance along the street he pushed Wilfrid into the carriage. “I am unarmed, monsieur,” observed Wilfrid. “A sword would be——” “No, no! Don’t play into the enemy’s hand. They’ll do no hurt to a nephew of the British Ambassador if you yield quietly. But offer resistance, and that’ll be a convenient excuse for putting a bullet through your head. Your single sword will be no match for a dozen carbines.” He whispered a few words of instruction in the driver’s ear, and Ivor set off at the furious gallop common to all Muscovite coachmen. “So he intends merely to wound him,” murmured De Vaucluse as he walked slowly back to the cabinet. “Ah, but accidents may happen! It were better for Pauline that he were dead. It is the only way to save her from——” The sound of light footsteps came tripping along outside the cabinet, and the next moment his daughter appeared. On seeing her father Pauline sprang forward to kiss him. Full of a pleasurable excitement, she did not notice that he gave her but a cold reception. “Ah! _mon père_, why were you not at the masquerade to-night to witness my triumph? See, I bring home the tiara given as the prize for the daintiest costume. Do I not look beautiful?” she added, placing the ornament upon her dark hair and glancing with pardonable pride at her image in the mirror. “’Twere better if you were less beautiful!” There was in his words an intonation that caused Pauline to look hard at him as if she were trying to read his thoughts. He returned her look, and for a few moments they stood gazing at each other. Pauline did not, however, seem at all disconcerted.