"Yes--and he saw it. He saw the key round my neck," replied Vronsky, furiously, though under his breath. "It was intentional. I have suspected him ever since he entered my service. Now, the question is, What am I to do?" Felix made a motion of his head towards the paper. "That is the evidence of the guilt of Cravatz?" "It came late last night." "And I am to take it to the Governor to-day?" "Yes; he told me that the moment it was in his hands he would have Cravatz arrested. There is ground enough for hanging him here." Felix stood immovable, while the blood came slowly into his face. He might be nearer death than he knew, and the thought showed him that life was sweeter than at times he was wont to think. The entrance of Streloff, the new clerk, in that summary way, was the first evidence he had had of Cravatz's spies among their own people. It shook him a little. "I wonder where he is--Cravatz, I mean?" he slowly said. "Not too near, but near enough to keep in touch with your movements, you may depend. At Gretz, I daresay." Felix pondered. "What I have to do is to leave the house in safety with these papers. The clerk must be detained until I have started." "Yes," said Vronsky, after a moment's thought. "I will have him in to take down a typed statement from my dictation. Summon him, and let Hutin come with him--a man I thoroughly trust. I will keep them until you are an hour upon your journey. By that time you will be out of reach. But, Felix, will it not be more prudent for you to remain at Nicolashof to-night? Not to return?" "Oh, no," said Felix, impatiently. "What good would it do to waylay me on the way back? I shall not then have the thing they want. And besides, who is to do it? Even if this man Streloff is a traitor--and we have no proof that he is--what could he do against me? I am a match for any two of them, and so far as we know, he has no accomplices. No fear! He is here to steal if he can, but not to fight. Fighting is not in the line of the Brotherhood. Assassination is safer, far." He spoke with the slow, concentrated bitterness which came into his voice whenever he thought of the toils in which he had been caught in his hot youth. "Give me the papers, little father," he said, "and I will put them in the inner pocket that is upon my shirt, and button my coat and vest over them. They will be safe enough then. There! That is all right. Shall I summon Streloff and Hutin?" Vronsky sighed. "I suppose so. Heaven bless you, little son." He paused a long minute, and then added, while the blood rose under his olive cheek, "Make my compliments to Nadia Stepanovna."