Sandoff was thrilled with amazement and admiration. His eyes were riveted upon the slender figure standing opposite him—so close that he could have touched her by extending his hand. He had seen many beautiful women in his time, but never one to match this young girl—for she was scarcely more than twenty. Her hair was of a rich golden brown, her eyes gleamed with a slightly darker shade of the same color, from beneath long drooping lashes; her cheeks were faintly tinged with a hue like the early bloom of a peach, and the ivory whiteness of her neck and throat was only equaled by the pearly rows of teeth that showed through her parted lips as she breathed quickly and deeply. She wore a close fitting dress, made of dark material and richly trimmed with sable fur. The two stood in silence for a moment, and then, meeting Sandoff’s eye, the girl blushed. “You don’t know me?” she said abruptly. “Do you remember the night of the 30th of December, one year ago——” The sweet voice, the accent, revealed the truth to Sandoff instantly. “Yes; I remember now,” he said gravely. “It was you who saved my life.” “And you remember the promise you made me?” she continued. Sandoff inclined his head. He was greatly troubled by this visit, now that he began to guess its import. Yet he had no thought of breaking his oath. “What can I do for you?” he said. “Speak! Don’t be afraid.” The girl’s eyes sought the floor for a moment, and then were turned to Sandoff entreatingly. “It is not for myself that I have come here tonight,” she said. “I want you to save the life of a friend—as I once saved yours. Unless he can leave the city before daylight he is lost. Only one thing can aid him, and that is a passport.” “His name?” demanded Sandoff quickly. “Tell me his name!” The girl sank upon a chair and buried her face in her hands. She sobbed audibly for an instant, and then looked up appealingly through her tears. “His name,” she replied in a broken voice, “is Felix Shamarin. He is my brother. I am Vera Shamarin.” CHAPTER II. THE TRIUMPH OF COUNT SANDOFF. The effect of the girl’s brief words upon Sandoff was startling. His face suddenly assumed the color of ashes; he retreated to his desk, and stood there supporting himself by one hand and looking down at Vera Shamarin with an expression that was hard to define—a glance of mingled horror and pity. The girl sprang forward and threw herself at his feet. “Save him! Save him!” she cried incoherently. “He is my brother—all that I have in the world. If he is taken they will send him to Schlusselburg or to Siberia—or perhaps even worse.” Sandoff drew back a little. “Do you realize what you are asking of me?” he said. “Do you know that I could have granted you anything rather than that?” He spoke in a low tone and signified to the girl to be equally cautious. But she was in no mood for reasoning.