“I swear,” cried Mr. Hardwick, as he paced up and down his room, “that I shall be more careful after this in the handling of truth; it is a most dangerous thing to meddle with. If you tell the truth about a man, you are mulcted in a libel suit, and if you tell the truth about a nation, the united Press of the country are down upon you. Ah, well, it makes the battle of life all the more interesting, and we are baffled to fight better, as Browning says.” The editor had sent for Miss Baxter, and she now sat by his desk while he paced nervously to and fro. The doors were closed and locked so that they might not be interrupted, and she knew by the editor’s manner that something important was on hand. Jennie had returned to London after a month’s stay in Vienna, and had been occupied for a week at her old routine work in the office. “Now, Miss Baxter,” said the editor, when he had proclaimed his distrust of the truth as a workable material in journalism, “I have a plan to set before you, and when you know what it is, I am quite prepared to hear you refuse to have anything to do with it. And, remember, if you _do_ undertake it, there is but one chance in a million of your succeeding. It is on this one chance that I propose now to send you to St. Petersburg--” “To St. Petersburg!” echoed the girl in dismay. “Yes,” said the editor, mistaking the purport of her ejaculation, “it is a very long trip, but you can travel there in great comfort, and I want you to spare no expense in obtaining for yourself every luxury that the various railway lines afford during your journey to St. Petersburg and back.” “And what am I to go to St. Petersburg for?” murmured Jennie faintly.