it--Tania Garanine, the Scythian actress--and when I saw her I knew the true inwardness of the plot at once. She is a favourite tool of Soudaroff’s; and the Princess of Dardania turned her on when she wanted to keep her son from marrying Princess Emilia of Magnagrecia. The young fellow was staunch, you know, which didn’t make the fair Tania any more kindly disposed towards me, who had made up the match. She looked quite radiant when I found myself opposite her in the carriage, and made no bones about answering my questions. It was desirable that I should be out of the way for a time, she told me, but everything would be done to make the short seclusion as pleasant as possible, and if I would give my word not to attempt to escape, I should be allowed a considerable degree of freedom. Since my revolver was gone, and my feet were fastened together, and my hands tied in front of me, it seemed rather unnecessary to ask for my parole, and I refused it promptly. She didn’t seem to mind, but the fellow who sat beside me immediately poked the muzzle of a revolver into my neck, and remarked that he would fire if I moved. There was another man opposite, also with a revolver, and poor Paschics was at the bottom of the carriage, apparently choking. I pointed out to the lady that if she didn’t want him to die before her eyes, she had better have the thing taken off his head, and she gave the order with a sweet smile, as a personal favour to me, she said. Just at that moment we passed another carriage--an elaborate old-fashioned affair with Dardanian outriders--coming in the opposite direction, towards Europe, and the man in it bowed very impressively to Mlle. Garanine.” “Prince Valerian Pelenko!” cried Mr Hicks. “Then I guess he told the exact truth, after all, when he said he had seen you riding with that lady, and on the best of terms with her.” “Probably, since he could not see the revolver, and the carriage-rug was drawn up over my hands. Did--did my wife hear it?” “We all heard it, Count, but no one believed a word of it. To us it was only one more attempt to take away your character.” “But she might have believed it!” cried Usk violently. “It might have pained her most awfully. Why didn’t you cry out, Uncle Cyril, even if you were shot the next moment? At least she would have known that their whole story was a lie.”