“Yes, yes, I promise,” she whispered brokenly. “You may rely upon it.” She caught his hand and covered it with kisses, but Sandoff quickly withdrew it, and, turning away without a word, seated himself at his desk. For a few moments he wrote briskly, glancing from time to time at the clock, while Vera’s eyes followed every motion of his own. Finally he laid aside his pen and handed her a folded paper. “Here is a passport for your brother,” he said quietly. “It is made out fictitiously, of course, but none will question the signature, and if he is properly disguised there will be no risk, either to him or to me. At midnight a through train leaves the Moscow terminus for Berlin. Let him take it, if possible. But are you sure that he can pass through the police lines in safety—my men are very close to Lyapin’s house?” The girl started violently. “Ah, you know where he is concealed?” she cried. “You are the most noble—the most generous of men. Yes, he can pass through in safety; there is a way.” She tried to say more, but her voice choked with emotion. She hastily donned her cloak and veil and approached the door. Sandoff preceded her. “God bless you, Inspector Sandoff,” she whispered. The door opened and closed. Her light footsteps echoed through the hall and down the staircase. Then all was silence. When she had gone Sandoff remained standing a moment by the door, pressing his hands to his forehead as though he would stifle the conflicting thoughts that were struggling for mastery in his brain. Then he picked up a glass of vodka from the table, and swallowed a little of the strong spirit. The composing effect of this was instantaneous. He walked steadily across the floor and threw open the door of the middle room. An expression of relief appeared on his face as he saw that the apartment was empty, and the rear door as he had left it. “My fears were groundless,” he thought. “Zamosc is the last man to pry into private affairs.” He opened the back room and called the occupants out. “I regret being compelled to keep you waiting so long,” he said in apologetic tones. “My visitor was very importunate.” “It makes no difference,” said Zamosc; “but I am glad that you are here all the same, for I have an important engagement, and must leave at once. It is already half past ten. What about this stupid fellow whom I brought here?” he added in a low tone. “Does he know anything of the Shamarin affair?” “Nothing new,” replied Sandoff. “He tells me that Shamarin is concealed within half a mile of the Ostroff bridge on the Fontana Canal—a piece of information which we have known for the past two days. By the way, if anything turns up before morning, let me know. I shall remain here all night.” “Very well,” said Zamosc. He passed out of the room, and his quick, firm footsteps were heard descending the stairs. Sandoff turned to Poussin, who was seated on a chair, fumbling with his cap. “Follow me. I have something to say to you,” he commanded.