The scene was a weird one. In a low, damp, underground cellar, a dozen men and women were sitting around a table, upon the centre of which a playing-card was pinned by a thin ivory-hilted dagger. A couple of guttering candles shed a feeble light upon the pale, determined countenances of the conspirators, among whom sat Paul Denissoff. The elderly, wild-haired man who sat at the head of the table was speaking authoritatively, and had been explaining to those assembled, the proposals for the _coup_ at Peterhof, a map of the neighbourhood being spread before him. "And now," he said gravely, "we must draw lots for the removal of the traitor to whom I referred at the opening of our council." A dead silence followed, while a man who sat on the president's right prepared a number of small folded slips of paper. Upon one of these the president scribbled a name. Then they were placed together in a small box, and each of the revolutionists drew. In addition to the president himself, only the person who drew the paper with the name upon it knew who had been guilty of treachery, while all remained in ignorance of the chosen assassin. Then the council broke up, arranging to meet on the following night. At nine o'clock on the next evening, Paul Denissoff, pale-faced and haggard-eyed, entered the hall of the great house of the Orlovskis. "I must see madame at once," he said to a lackey. "Take me to her." A few moments later he was ushered along a spacious corridor filled with palms and exotics, through a great white and gold ballroom, and presently admitted into a small, exquisitely furnished little apartment, wherein sat Adine, in a lounge chair, doing fancy needlework. "Ah, Paul?" she cried, starting to her feet. "Why, what ails you?" "Hush, Adine," he said hoarsely, when the door had closed. "Some one has denounced you to the executive as a traitor. The council have passed sentence of death, and I--I have drawn the fatal number. You must fly--you must leave Russia at once--to-night--for at midnight I must return here to--_to murder you_!" "_Dieu_!" she gasped. "Then my secret has been divulged! I confess--it is true, Paul. I have been guilty of double dealing, but it was to save--Hark! Listen!" There were sounds of voices outside the door, which a moment afterwards was flung open, revealing two ordinary-looking individuals, accompanied by several grey-coated police officers. "Paul Denissoff," exclaimed one of the detectives, stepping forward, "in the name of our father, the Tzar, I arrest you for conspiracy." "By Heaven! I'll not go with you. I--" In a moment he had drawn a revolver and placed himself on the defensive; but a second later the weapon was wrenched from his grasp. Adine, pale and weeping, threw herself between him and his captors, but she was roughly thrust aside, and he was handcuffed and conveyed away to the Police Bureau. ------------------------------------------------------------------------