"Only the factory, or the refinery as well?" asked the Frenchman. "Only the refinery," whispered the other, pressing a bank-note into the hand of his questioner. "_Bien_," replied the latter, and pocketed the money. It was a hundred-ruble note. "Is this gentleman going with you?" he asked, indicating Ödön. "To be sure," answered Leonin. "Give him a hundred rubles, Ödön: that is the entrance fee. You won't regret it." Ödön complied, and the Frenchman then conducted them through various passages and past doors from which issued hot blasts of air, stifling odours, and a fierce hissing of steam. Coming at last to a low iron portal which their guide opened to them by pressing a hidden spring, they passed into a dimly lighted passage and were directed to go on, as they could now find their way unaided. Leonin, as one well acquainted with the place, took his friend's arm and led him forward. They descended a winding stairway, and as they went downward the clanking of machinery and hissing of steam gave place to the sound of distant music. At the foot of the stairs there sat at a little table an old woman dressed in the latest mode. Leonin threw down a gold coin. "Is my box open?" he asked. She bowed and smiled, whereupon he advanced to one of a row of tapestry portières and held it aside for Ödön to enter. They passed through another door and found themselves in a sort of opera-box whose front was screened by a light grating. The music was now distinctly audible. "Is this a theatre or a circus?" asked Ödön, adding, as he peeped through the grating, "or is it a steam bath?" Leonin laughed. "Anything you will," said he, throwing himself down on a divan and taking up a printed sheet that lay on the railing. It proved to be a programme, prepared in due form. He read it while the other looked over his shoulder. "'_Don Juan au Sérail._' That is a fine piece; too bad we missed it. '_Tableaux Vivants_'--awfully tiresome. '_Les Bayadères du Khan Almollah_'--exceedingly amusing; I have seen it once before. '_La Lutte des Amazones._' '_La Rève d'Ariane_'--charming, only I don't know whether Persida is at her best to-night." The door of the box opened and a servant looked in. "Waiter, serve us some refreshments," ordered Leonin. "For how many?" "Three." "Who is the third?" asked Ödön. "You will soon see," replied Leonin. The waiter spread the table and brought a roast, side dishes, and champagne in a cooler; then he left the gentlemen to themselves. Leonin bolted the door after him. "This is a queer kind of a sugar refinery," remarked Ödön, glancing through the grating. The other laughed. "You thought we only knew how to sing psalms, I suppose," said he. "But such a resort here in a government building!" exclaimed Ödön. Leonin smiled and put his finger on his lips. "Aren't you afraid of being discovered?" asked the other. "If we were we should all take a trip to Siberia." "Don't you fear the musicians may betray you?"