“I solemnly ask you to take a little drive with me,” said the man, when we had reached the foyer. “I have a carriage at the door.” “Again, why?” I demanded. He whispered: “You are poisoned. I am saving your life. I rely on your discretion.” My spine turned chilly, and I glanced at Miss Rosie. “I will come with you,” she said. In five minutes we had driven to a large house in Golden Square. We were ushered into a lavishly-furnished drawing-room, and we sat down. Rosie’s lips were set. I admired her demeanour during those moments. The man who said he was saving my life poured some liquid from a phial into a glass, and handed it to me. “Emetics are useless. Drink this. In an hour you will feel the first symptoms of illness. They may be severe, though that is improbable, since you ate only a portion of the stuff. In any event, they will not last. To-morrow you will be perfectly well. Let me advise you to go to bed at once. My carriage is at your service and the service of this lady.” He bowed. I drank the antidote. “Thanks for all these surprises,” I said coldly. “But does it not occur to you that some explanation is due to me?” He pondered a minute. “I will explain,” he replied. “It is your right. I will explain in two words. You have heard of Count Vandernoff, attached to the Russian Embassy in London? You may have seen in the papers that the Count has been appointed by the Tsar to be the new governor of Helsingfors, the Finnish capital?” I nodded. “You are aware,” he continued suavely, “of the widespread persecutions in Finland, the taking away of the Constitution, the Russianising of all offices, the censorship of the Press? This persecution has given rise to a secret society, which I will call the Friends of Finnish Freedom. Its methods are drastic. Count Vandernoff was known to be violently antagonistic to Finnish freedom. He dines often at the Louvre. He had engaged a table for to-night. The waiter in charge of that table was, like myself, a member of the society, but, unfortunately, rather a raw hand. The Count, quite unexpectedly, did not arrive at the Louvre to-night. The waiter, however, took you for the Count. The sorbet which I snatched out of your hand was---- Need I say more?” “Poisoned?” “Poisoned. The affair was carefully arranged, and only a pure accident could have upset it. That accident occurred.” “What was it?” “The Count’s coupé was knocked over by an omnibus in Piccadilly two hours ago, and the Count was killed.” There was a pause. “Then he will never be governor of Helsingfors,” I said. “Heaven helps the right!” the man answered. “You English love freedom. You cannot guess what we in Finland have suffered. Let me repeat that I rely on your discretion.” We left, Miss Rosie and I; and the kind-hearted girl delivered me safely into the hands of my housekeeper. I was ill, but I soon recovered. A few days later I met Miss Rosie at rehearsal.