It had a Russian stamp upon it, and bore the postmark of Kiakhta, a small town south of Irkutsk, on the border of Mongolia. Breaking open the seals, I found a small box, from which I took a thick gold ring, set with a magnificent diamond. Attached to it was a small piece of paper which bore, in a man's handwriting, the following words:-- "_The husband of Prascovie Souvaroff, who owes to you the safe return of his beloved wife, sends this little gift as a slight recognition of the kindness she received at your hands_." There was neither, name, address, nor date; nothing to show who was the anonymous husband. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The mystery was solved in a most unexpected manner. Some months after the results of my investigations had been published, I chanced one night to attend the banquet of the Association of Foreign Consuls held in the Whitehall Rooms of the Hotel Metropole. As usual, a number of the _corps diplomatique_ were present, and among them Serge Velitchko, one of the _attaches_ of the Russian Embassy, an old friend of mine, whom I had not seen since my return. "I congratulate you on your lucky escape, old fellow," he exclaimed, after we had exchanged cordial greetings. "Escape? What do you mean?" I inquired. "Ah, it's all very well," he replied, laughing, as we strolled together into an ante-room that was unoccupied. "Prascovie was very fascinating, wasn't she?" "How did you know?" I asked in amazement, for I imagined no one was aware that she had been my companion. "Oh, we knew all about it, never fear," he said, with a smile. "By Jove! it was quite a romance, travelling all that distance with a pretty companion, and then losing her on the Yeniseisk Steppe. It was lucky for you, however, that she left you in time, otherwise you would, in all probability, have been working underground at Kara, or some other place equally delightful, by this time." "Explain yourself," I urged impatiently. "You're talking in enigmas."