I was in a fever of excitement. All through the ride I had been playing, in the back of my mind, with the thought of seeing Natalie again, of finding Moore and Larry, and possibly even finding and rescuing my little sister. But now at this new move my mind flew to Pride and the importance of his successful pursuit; for I had not the slightest idea where we were. And in the bottom of my heart I was satisfied now that Ivanovitch knew who I was and was simply taking me to this party to get me into safe hands. It had all been too easy. Therefore the only hope lay in Pride being able to trace me successfully and get me out of it along with the others. For I had little confidence in my chances of getting out of it by myself, once they had me there in their hands and probably badly outnumbered. I got up silently back of my host and managed to catch a glimpse out of the corner of the open window over his head. But it was pitch dark outside now. There were no street lights where we were, and I could see nothing at all. “Anybody there?” I whispered, and tried to edge Ivanovitch away from the window. He turned swiftly and shut the window. “My friend,” he said in his even tone, “you will be entirely silent, if you please. And do not attempt to look out of the window again, eh?” Something touched me and I looked down. The Russian’s hand held a small nickel-plated revolver, and the muzzle of it was nosing the lowest button of my vest. “Sorry,” he added, smiling, “but we must take precautions, you see. You will be careful?” I laughed. “Well, this is getting to be a melodrama all of a sudden, isn’t it? All right. Don’t shoot. I’ll be good.” At my first word the Russian’s face lost its mask of good-humor for the first time. The lips drew back from even white teeth and the eyes narrowed into a vicious scowl. “You will be good—and silent,” he observed. “Not another word!” I let my mouth sag open, staring at him in simulated amazement. But the man’s cold eye had killing in it, and I did not venture to speak again. He turned away, opened the little window again and put his ear to it. He listened for a long minute. Then he clapped the window shut and took up the speaking tube. For some reason, probably to annoy me, he spoke in English this time. “Alexandre! We are being followed. Give the signal!” Then he leaned back again, stowed away his revolver and turned to me with his former cold smile. “I must apologize, my dear Clayton, for being a little insistent,” he said, his eyes full of malicious amusement. “But, you see, we have to take precautions, and as long as you talked I could not hear. However, our friends back there have a little surprise in store for them that will probably discourage them for some time. So we can now resume our pleasant conversation.”