“Yes, yes, that is a good plan,” exclaimed the count eagerly. “But you had better let the gendarmes make the two arrests. Go around to the first station on the Nevskoi Prospekt. You will find Captain Nikolin in charge. He has men there, and will act at once—a very necessary thing, for it is half past eleven o’clock now.” “True,” said Zamosc, “and the train for Berlin leaves at midnight. Before morning the affair will be accomplished, and within a month, at the furthest, I shall expect a fulfillment of your promise, my dear count.” “And you shall not be disappointed—if my influence counts for anything. Good night, and success to you.” “Good night,” rejoined Zamosc. He hurriedly left the room, taking Poussin with him, and a moment later the two were striding hurriedly along the Court Quay in the direction of the Nevskoi Prospekt. * * * * * Although the St. Petersburg newspapers seldom obtain any information concerning the movements of the police—at least not until it is several days old—no less than two of the morning journals announced, in their issue for January 11, that Felix Shamarin, the Nihilist, and his sister, had been arrested on the previous night at the Moscow terminus, and that Inspector Victor Sandoff was apprehended an hour later on a charge of aiding the aforesaid Felix Shamarin in his attempt to escape. The assassination of the Czar could hardly have created more surprise and consternation throughout the city, and when the true facts became known, as they did in time, much pity was felt for Sandoff, and not a few expressed the opinion that he could not have acted differently under the circumstances. But pity and public opinion have nothing in common with the Russian government. In spite of the high rank of the offender, Victor Sandoff was brought to trial three weeks after his arrest, convicted, sentenced to a term of ten years at hard labor in the Czar’s Siberian gold mines, and sent off post haste to begin his term of banishment. He attempted no defense, nor would any have been possible. The testimony of Zamosc and Poussin was beyond question, and the passport that had been taken from Shamarin was a still more damning bit of evidence. Felix Shamarin and his sister had left St. Petersburg on the way to Siberia ten days earlier—for the devoted girl, despite her youth and beauty, was sentenced to share his punishment for the part she had played in his attempted escape. Neither of them was aware of Sandoff’s arrest. They believed that his perfidy was responsible for their own fate, and their hearts were full of bitterness and hatred toward him. Nor did Sandoff in turn know what had become of the Shamarins. All information was refused him. He rightly attributed his downfall to Serge Zamosc, but he was ignorant of the connection between the latter and his uncle, Count Sandoff. Not for an instant did he suspect the truth.