I quitted his Majesty’s presence, and returned to my hotel, deeply disturbed by what I had heard. I could not suppose that the most sagacious sovereign in Europe was indulging in idle fears. Yet it was hard to believe that the inhabitants of a free, self-governing country would voluntarily exchange their condition for servitude to the Asiatic despotism which had just laid Finland prostrate at their door. Three days afterwards I arrived in Christiania. I had made careful preparations for the task before me. I assumed the character of a Russian spy, as the least likely to provoke suspicion of the quarter from which I really came. And I had disguised my person as effectively as I knew how, lest I should meet a real agent of the Tsar’s Government, who might detect A---- V---- beneath the outward semblance of Alexander Volkuski. The pains I had taken were well rewarded. In the hotel in which I put up I found staying a man who passed as a Finnish officer, of Swedish nationality, but whom I immediately recognised as Count Marloff, the confidential right-hand man of M. de Witte himself. It is true the Russian was disguised, and the disguise was a very good one, but by an almost incredible oversight he had ventured to assume that a disguise which had already done duty once might safely be used again. It was seven years before, in Teheran, that I had seen that reddish wig and noted that peculiar limp, but if Count Marloff had offered me his card I could not have been more sure of his identity. Such mistakes may be pardonable in a mere detective, but they are fatal in our profession. My tactics were soon decided on. I knew that the attention of ‘Colonel Sigersen’ would be quickly attracted to a Russian staying in Christiania, and I have generally found the boldest game to be the most successful. I seized the first opportunity of the Count’s being seated alone in the smoking-room of the hotel, to go up to him boldly. ‘How do you do, Count?’ I said in Russian. ‘Or perhaps you will wish me to say “Colonel”?’ Marloff started, as well he might, and stared hard into my face. ‘My name is Colonel Sigersen,’ he said forbiddingly. ‘Have I had the pleasure of meeting you before?’ This was the opening I wanted. I drew back disdainfully. ‘I must apologise,’ I said, with irony; ‘I have not had the honour of meeting you, _Colonel Sigersen_. Pray do not think I wish to intrude on you.’ Marloff saw his mistake. In the secret service of Russia nothing is more common than for two different agents to be employed independently of each other, and even as spies upon each other. When that happens, if the two men are wise, they strike up a private alliance, and compare notes at their employers’ expense. When they keep each other at arm’s length, each has it in his power to cause annoyance to the other.