“Without doubt,” smiled Wilfrid. “But why should I go to this person? If he wish to see me, here I am, easily accessible.” “It is impossible for——” he hesitated for a word—“for the person to visit you.” “Why not? Is he on a sick bed? Dying? In prison? Who is he?” “I am on oath not to reveal the name of my principal. You are suspicious, I see; and your suspicions are, perhaps, natural; but in the name of God”—and here the speaker lifted his hand—“no hurt is intended you.” Wilfrid knew that when a Muscovite swears by the name of God, he may usually be trusted. Still—— “I don’t doubt your word, good Alexis, but I strongly suspect the motives of a principal who clothes himself with such secrecy. It is now close upon twelve o’clock. Why may I not go with you to-morrow, and in daylight?” “To-morrow will be too late.” “Too late for what?” “That is the answer I was told to give. It must be to-night or never.” “You do not know, then, for what purpose I am wanted?” Alexis signified that he did not. Wilfrid mused. Was it safe to pay a visit at midnight to a strange house for the purpose of meeting a man who declined to state beforehand either his name or business? It was certain he had in the city one enemy, Baranoff, if not more; and this errand of Alexis might be the initial step for putting him into that enemy’s hand. A little reflection, however, caused Wilfrid to dismiss this theory. Why should Baranoff employ all this secrecy? If he wanted to remove an enemy he had simply to sign an order for that enemy’s deportation to Siberia, and the thing was done. Then there occurred to him an idea that set his blood tingling with a pleasurable excitement. “So,” said he to Alexis, “you will not give me the name of _the lady_ that has sent you?” It was a chance statement, but it found verification in Alexis’ sudden look of surprise. “I have not said that my principal is a lady.” True, but he had shown a scrupulous avoidance of the masculine pronoun, and hence Wilfrid’s conclusion. Who was this lady, if not the mysterious duchess? The atmosphere of peril in which she moved had doubtless left her no other way of seeing him except at midnight and in secrecy. She wanted him, and that at once: to-morrow would be too late! Was it to give warning of some danger that threatened him, or her, or, possibly, both? “Had the lady any reason for selecting you as her messenger?” “My brother’s death was mentioned, and I was told to be earnest in persuading you to accompany me, for it might lead to the punishment of his murderer.”