He lifted the lamp from the table and walked to the wall opposite to the door. Knigenstein followed him closely. Before them, high up as the fingers of a man could reach, was a small, irregular red patch--something between a cross and a star. Mr. Sabin held the lamp high over his head and pointed to the mark. "Do you know what that means?" he asked. The man by his side groaned. "Yes," he answered, with a gesture of abject despair, "I know!" Mr. Sabin walked back to the table and set down the lamp. "You know now," he said coolly, "who has intervened." "If I had had any idea," Knigenstein said, "that you were one of them I should not have treated with you." "It was many years ago," Mr. Sabin said with a sigh. "My father was half a Russian, you know. It served my purpose whilst I was envoy at Teheran; since then I had lost sight of them; I thought that they too had lost sight of me. I was mistaken--only an hour ago I was visited by a chief official. They knew everything, they forbade everything. As a matter of fact they have saved England!" "And ruined us," Knigenstein groaned. "I must go and telegraph. But Souspennier, one word." Mr. Sabin looked up. "You are a brave man and a patriot; you want to see your country free. Well, why not free it still? You and I are philosophers, we know that life after all is an uncertain thing. Hold to your bargain with us. It will be to your death, I do not deny that. But I will pledge the honour of my country, I will give you the holy word of the Emperor, that we will faithfully carry out our part of the contract, and the whole glory shall be yours. You will be immortalised; you will win fame that shall be deathless. Your name will be enshrined in the heart of your country's history." Mr. Sabin shook his head slowly. "My dear Knigenstein," he said "pray don't misunderstand me. I do not cast the slightest reflection upon your Emperor or your honour. But if ever there was a country which required watching, it is yours. I could not carry your pledges with me into oblivion, and there is no one to whom I could leave the legacy. That being the case, I think that I prefer to live." Knigenstein buttoned up his coat and sighed. "I am a ruined man, Souspennier," he said, "but I bear you no malice. Let me leave you a little word of warning, though. The Nihilists are not the only people in the world who have the courage and the wit to avenge themselves. Farewell!" Mr. Sabin broke into a queer little laugh as he listened to his guest's departing footsteps. Then he lit a cigarette, and called to Foo Cha for some coffee. CHAPTER XXXIX THE HEART OF THE PRINCESS When Wolfenden opened his paper on Saturday morning, London had already drawn a great breath, partly of relief partly of surprise, for the black head-lines which topped the columns of the papers, the placards in the streets, and the cry of the newsboys, all declared a most remarkable change in the political situation.