"Can you tell us how it is that so large a concern is kept so completely secret?" Here was a poser; but my native impudence and the brandy seemed to come to my aid. "That is information," I replied, "which I do not feel justified in divulging even here. In withholding it I am acting under the direction of the chief commissioner." "You are right--perfectly right," said my original friend Petrokine. "You will no doubt make your report to the central office at Moscow before entering into such details." "Exactly so," I replied, only too happy to get a lift out of my difficulty. "We have heard," said Alexis, "that you were sent to inspect the _Livadia_. Can you give us any particulars about it?" "Anything you ask I will endeavour to answer," I replied, in desperation. "Have any orders been made in Birmingham concerning it?" "None when I left England." "Well, well, there's plenty of time yet," said the man with the beard--"many months. Will the bottom be of wood or iron?" "Of wood," I answered at random. "'Tis well!" said another voice. "And what is the breadth of the Clyde below Greenock?" "It varies much," I replied; "on an average about eighty yards." "How many men does she carry?" asked an anæmic-looking youth at the foot of the table, who seemed more fit for a public school than this den of murder. "About three hundred," said I. "A floating coffin!" said the young Nihilist, in a sepulchral voice. "Are the store-rooms on a level with or underneath the state-cabins?" asked Petrokine. "Underneath," said I decisively, though I need hardly say I had not the smallest conception. "And now, most honoured sir," said Alexis, "tell us what was the reply of Bauer, the German socialist, to Ravinsky's proclamation." Here was a deadlock with a vengeance. Whether my cunning would have extricated me from it or not was never decided, for Providence hurried me from one dilemma into another and a worse one. A door slammed downstairs, and rapid footsteps were heard approaching. Then came a loud tap outside, followed by two smaller ones. "The sign of the society!" said Petrokine; "and yet we are all present; who can it be?" The door was thrown open, and a man entered, dusty and travel-stained, but with an air of authority and power stamped on every feature of his harsh but expressive face. He glanced round the table, scanning each countenance carefully. There was a start of surprise in the room. He was evidently a stranger to them all. "What means this intrusion, sir?" said my friend with the beard. "Intrusion!" said the stranger. "I was given to understand that I was expected, and had looked forward to a warmer welcome from my fellow-associates. I am personally unknown to you, gentlemen, but I am proud to think that my name should command some respect among you. I am Gustave Berger, the agent from England, bearing letters from the chief commissioner to his well-beloved brothers of Solteff."