"Was it?" she asked in a strange tone of alarm. "Ah, I remember. I--I was happy then, wasn't I?" "Are you not happy now?" I inquired. "Yes--very," she replied, smiling. "But I'm tired, and must go to my room, or I shall be fit for nothing to-morrow." "Very well," I replied. "I'll tell you to go in a few minutes." Then, after joining the driver and post-house keepers in another glass of vodka, I said to her-- "Ivan, you can go. I shall require you no longer." Gathering up her coat, hat and gloves, she bowed, and, wishing the men "Good-night," went to her room. After smoking for another hour, I also sought my dirty little den. In the heart of Siberia one must expect to rough it, therefore I took my revolver from my belt, placed it under my pillow, and, after removing some of my clothes, strapped my fur rug around my neck, and, stretching myself upon the hard pallet, soon dropped off to sleep. Next morning, when I had dressed, I knocked several times at Prascovie's door, but received no reply. Subsequently I pushed it open and entered, discovering, to my surprise, that the room was empty. Notwithstanding my limited knowledge of Russian, I managed to make the men understand that my servant was missing, and they searched the premises, but without avail. They examined the road outside, but, as it had been snowing heavily during the night, no footprints were visible. Prascovie had mysteriously disappeared! While I remained in charge of the post-house, the three men mounted the horses and rode out in different directions, thinking it possible that she had strayed away upon the steppe and become lost in a snowdrift. Towards evening, however, they returned, after a long and futile search. Anxious to solve the mystery, and reluctant to leave without her, I remained there several days. As the nearest dwelling was twenty miles distant, and her overcoat and hat still remained in her room, her disappearance was all the more puzzling. I examined her box, but found nothing in it except articles of male wearing apparel; so after a week of anxious waiting, I became convinced that to remain there longer was useless. With heavy heart, and sorely puzzled over the mystery, I continued my lonely journey towards the mines of Yeniseisk. Having inspected them, I journeyed south, alone and dejected, and investigated the great prisons at Krasnoiarsk and Irkutsk, afterwards returning through Omsk and Tobolsk, and thence to the Urals and civilisation. I missed her companionship very much, and long before my journey ended, I had grown dull, morose, and melancholy. After an absence of six months, I again returned to London. When I arrived home, fatigued and hungry, and before I had time to cast off my worn-out travelling suit, the servant girl handed me a small packet which she said had arrived by registered post a week before.