Madame smiled in quite a charming way. “Lady Kathleen,” she said, “I cannot explain very much, for I know very little. I was simply requested by the Russian Embassy to inform you that a special emissary from St. Petersburg asks to see you at once. Who he is,” Madame continued, shrugging her shoulders, “I really cannot say. Sometimes, you know, the Russian officials are mysterious, and I have only my work to do. I ask no questions; it is not my business. “But this gentleman, whoever he may be, is seemingly fearful of being seen in London, and he has asked you to meet me at Richmond in an hour's time.” “Whereabouts in Richmond?” asked Kathleen. “At the Star and Garter Hotel. I was asked to assure you that in all probability he would not detain you long.” Kathleen's heart now beat faster with hope and now slowly with fear. When she had left the Czar's cousin at Rouen that great personage had given no indication that there was anything further to be discussed. He had simply delivered his ultimatum and taken his way back to St. Petersburg. Kathleen looked at the clock. “I suppose,” she asked, “you do not know whether this gentleman would be likely to wait?” “I am instructed,” replied Mme. Estelle, “that he cannot possibly wait. He is catching the three-o'clock mail back to France.” It was certainly an exceedingly awkward position for a girl to be in. Hitherto she had undertaken no negotiations with the Czar's agents except on the advice of her father, and it seemed a remarkable thing that she should be sent for in this way in person. That she could disturb her father was, of course, out of the question, and with some misgivings she decided that it would be best to accompany her mysterious visitor without further delay. “I will be with you in a few moments,” she said, and passed out of the room to put on her outdoor things. When she returned she found Madame already on her feet, as though anxious to depart—and anxious to depart she was. From the beginning Mme. Estelle had cherished no liking for her mission, and the sight of Kathleen's pale and troubled beauty had unnerved her not a little. The place oppressed her. She admitted to herself that her notions were entirely fanciful, but still the whole atmosphere of the rather sombre and old-fashioned drawing-room seemed charged with tragedy. Kathleen preceded her visitor down the stairs, and then they entered the car. It was the Premier's official attendant who opened and shut the door of the motor for them. The chauffeur was apparently busy with the machinery, his head inside the bonnet. Whatever small trouble the man was encountering with the engines was of short duration, for Kathleen had scarcely settled herself in her seat before the car began to move.