Princess Nada nodded him farewell. "It is not good-bye, then, only _au revoir_. I suppose artists and ambassadors are the greatest cosmopolitans on earth. We shall meet next in St. Petersburg." And, on the Monday of the following week, Corsini set out on his expedition. He had seen Degraux, who had congratulated him heartily. "Salmoros pulls so many strings; he can do more for you in a week than I could do for you in twelve months," he had told him. "He has run several theatres for people he believed in. He will do anything in the world for you when he once takes a fancy." And little Anita had been very brave; she wept a good deal when she was alone, but in her brother's presence she kept her tears back. Was she to oppose the feelings of her loving and undisciplined heart to the fiat of this new benefactor who had come so unexpectedly into their lives? So she went meekly to the big house in Kensington, tenanted by the two dear old maids who were prepared to mother her, as much for her own sweet ways as from their ardent admiration for the compelling Salmoros, who had been a bosom friend of their father. "Two or three months and I shall be back again!" sighed Corsini as he settled himself in the train. Little could he guess what the future would unfold as he made this confident prediction. CHAPTER IX Weary and worn with his long journey, Nello dismounted at the little wayside station about thirty miles from St. Petersburg. All passengers were peremptorily ordered to alight. Presently he learned that there had been a slight railway accident in front, and that he might have to wait two or three hours before he could get on to the capital. He walked in the direction of the little village. There was evidently a great stir taking place in this ordinarily quiet neighbourhood. Mounted soldiers were drawn up before the old posting-inn. Nello happened to get hold of a man who could speak a little French, in a halting, but intelligent way. "Quite a commotion for such a tranquil spot. What is it that is on the _tapis_?" inquired Corsini. The man explained in his slow French. "Something out of the usual, Monsieur. Have you ever heard of a terrible fellow, one Ivan, nicknamed 'The Cuckoo'?" No, Nello had never heard of him. "Is he a very formidable personage this 'Ivan the Cuckoo,' then?" The man explained elaborately that Ivan was a much-feared outlaw, that he was in the vicinity with a gang of desperadoes and assassins. He was a convict who had escaped from the mines of Siberia, and had gathered round him a band of miscreants as desperate as himself, and as careless of consequences. They had lived by preying on the peasants and stray travellers. "The police are endeavouring to block the roads, so that, in desperation, he and his associates may be driven into the village and captured," concluded the man who had volunteered the explanation in his halting French.