“Thank you,” continued the young man lightly, as he returned the weed. “I spotted you for an American the minute I saw you. I can always tell. Everybody can’t. I’m an American, too. Did you guess? Whence did you come, brother?” Caruth started. The words were part of the prescribed ritual whereby he was to know his guide. But could this---- “From the land of the free and the home of the brave,” he answered unwillingly. Never before had the patriotic words seemed to him quite so bombastic. “I’m from the House of the Three Feathers myself,” returned the stranger jauntily, completing the ritual. “Come and have a wet. They’ve got a bar over here where you can get drinks like the eagle used to make. Come along!” Caruth dropped into line beside his interlocutor, who, still talking loudly and volubly, led him into a café, around a partition, and then with an admonitory “Look sharp now,” darted down a flight of stairs, followed a long passage, and finally came out into another street, where a cab was waiting. Into this he jumped, Caruth following. Before the door was closed, the driver whipped up his horses and the cab darted off at the breakneck speed characteristic of the Russian jehus. As it began to move, the young man turned to Caruth and spoke quietly, without a trace of his former levity. “We are going to the railway station,” he explained, “and will have just time to catch a train. Be ready to follow me promptly.” Conversation was difficult in the swaying cab, and indeed there was little time for it, for in less than ten minutes the cab drew up before the railway station and the young man leaped out and tore toward the gate, Caruth at his heels. Scarcely had they passed through when it clanged behind them. “Close shave that,” remarked the other, when the two were seated and the train was rolling southward. “I came mighty near cutting it too fine. However, all’s well that ends well. Now, we’ve got an hour’s ride before us, and might as well make ourselves comfortable.” Caruth’s lips opened. He was about to ask a question, when the other interposed. “Curiosity killed a cat,” he murmured. “Where ignorance is bliss, etc. Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. Talk about the weather if you can’t think of anything else, but don’t be inquisitive. Pretty country this--if you don’t mind what you say!” Thus adjured, Caruth made no attempt to question his mentor, but chatted on indifferent subjects till the train stopped at Gatchina, where the two left it and entered a cab, which at once started off at the usual speed. “I’ll leave you in a moment now,” said the other quietly. “Stay in the cab. The driver has his orders and has been paid. When he stops in front of a house, No. 351, go up to the door and walk in without ringing. You will be expected.” His instructions finished, the young fellow turned the handle of the door. “Au revoir,” he said, and leaped out as the cab swung round a corner.