"I cannot compliment you, Count Mellikoff, on either section of your system. To me, as I said before, you all appear to act only as special police spies, each one ready and eager to betray the other should occasion arise, and each knowing the other to hold this power over him. You have interested me deeply; but, pardon me, I cannot jump with you the entire length of the Tsar's fatherly protection, as exemplified by the Imperial Chancellerie. I have an old-fashioned prejudice in favour of individual free will and independence." Count Mellikoff made a slight bow, and the smile on his lips deepened as he answered: "At least, sir, you will pay us this justice, you never hear one Russian speak evil of another (I speak, of course, only of those of a certain social standing), nor will our ambassadors give any direct information to foreigners concerning any fugitive from justice, no matter how doubtful and suspicious their actions may appear. With us, sir, loyalty to our great Tsar and to his Government go hand-in-hand with our lives." Mr. Tremain replied only by a gesture of assent, for, as he began to speak, George Newbold came up to him once more, and carried him off, with a hurried apology to the Count. "We want him, you see. Many pardons, but he is needed for rehearsal. I'll be back directly," and Philip, thus hustled away, had no time to explain. Count Vladimir Mellikoff stood very still for some moments after Philip left him; the lines of care and thought that were graven innumerably about his eyes and the corners of his mouth, came forth with startling prominence, and gave a crafty, sceptical look to his countenance; his eyes gleamed in their hollow sockets, his lips moved quickly, and then, with a sudden upward gesture of his right hand, he put back the note-book in his pocket, and, turning, walked slowly back to where he had left Patricia surrounded by her gay adorers. The room, however, was empty now, and had Miss Hildreth been in very deed but a vision of his own creating she could not have vanished more completely--not a trace of her remained. The great carved chair in which she had sat was pushed hastily back, and about it, grouped in confusion, stood the ottomans, stools, _causeuses_ and low _fauteuils_, in which her train of devotees had reposed themselves, all equally unoccupied now. Not a trace of the queen of the revels, or her light-hearted companions, remained--not one. Yet stay; what is this lying on the floor, half-hidden by the fallen satin cushion of her chair? This bit of finest muslin and filmy lace, dropped or forgotten by Patricia as she moved away indifferent, yet alive, to every note of praise or flattery that rang about her.