"Your pardon, chief," said Vladimir, in a quiet voice, once more taking the chair facing Patouchki; "I have taken, perhaps, too much time to consider the flattering mission his Excellency would honour me with. My answer is, as it ever has been, and ever will be, that I am at the disposal of my gracious father the Tsar. My life is his, consequently what his Government elect for me to do, I can but consider as an Imperial command, and consecrate myself to its fulfilment. I am ready to leave Petersburg at a moment's notice." "It is well said, Vladimir," replied Patouchki, over whose composed features passed the faintest suspicion of relief. "My instructions are that you leave within the week; to-morrow your papers of detail will be given you. I need not remind so faithful a servant of the Tsar that secrecy, despatch, and caution should be your watchwords. Be discreet, Vladimir, and watchful. Remember how much depends upon our having this woman within our power; and remember, also, that in choosing you as their emissary, the secret committee have had particular regard to the exigencies of the case, and to the fact that you will have to deal with people of the upper classes, and through them work your way to the completion of the chain of evidence. Distrust every one, Vladimir; but, above all, distrust the ladies of the great world, they are our cleverest enemies, even as they are our best friends. Your letters of introduction and credit will be sent you in due course. And now, good-bye, Vladimir, for the present. You have carried good luck with you so far, may it not fail you now." A week later saw Count Vladimir Mellikoff on his way to Paris, _en route_ for the United States, and as he settled himself comfortably in the _salon coupé_ reserved for him in the _train de luxe_ going southward, it was with the memory of Olga's blue eyes looking kindly on him, and Olga's hand resting just a moment longer in his than was necessary for good-bye, and his heart was warm within him, and he smiled as he watched the outlines of magnificent Petersburg fading in the distance. His glance lingered longest on the glittering spire of Petropavlovsk, as it rose above the Neva, and when at last this was lost in the distance, he murmured, with a sigh upon his lips: "Fate is stronger than conscience. I go to make war upon a woman, with a woman's smile as my reward!" CHAPTER X. A COURT FAVOURITE. It was evening in the Winter Palace--evening of the day on which Vladimir Mellikoff had entered on the first stage of his new mission: to make war upon a woman. Within the Palace all was hushed and still; the servants passed to and fro with noiseless footsteps and that well-trained air of repose only attainable by long and constant effort. For once no official or social entertainment was on hand, and the Imperial Family were enjoying the novelty of a comparatively quiet evening--a novelty, whose rarity precluded any possibility of its charm waxing dim.