He looked at her darkly, suspiciously. “I still half think this is only a trick to escape.” “I will not try to escape, I swear! And how can I escape, with you but a yard away?” The door-bell rang once more. “Go! Go! Go!” she breathed frantically, and she pushed him half resisting into the hall and pulled the curtains before him. Drexel, watching through the parting of the portières, saw her stand a moment, hand pressed against her heart, striving to calm her heaving bosom and subdue the working passion of her face. Then she opened the door. “Here I am, Zenia--safe,” said the visitor. Drexel started at the familiar voice. Then into the room came--Drexel almost let out a cry--the terrorist, James Freeman. CHAPTER XXI THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAINS Freeman laid off his overcoat, and stood before her with triumph and exultation in his dark eyes. “Well--it’s all over,” he whispered. “A success--a tremendous success!” “Tell me all about it.” He glanced toward the portières behind which Drexel stood. “You are alone? There are no servants about?” “I had sent them to bed before you telephoned you were coming.” “What’s that noise overhead?” “The people who live up there are having a party.” He now noticed her pallor. “How white you are, Zenia!” “Am I? I suppose it’s the suspense of waiting to hear how things came out.” “I had to see Berloff first, you know, before I could come to you.” “You have seen him then?” “No. I went to him to report, but he was not in. I’m going back in an hour.” They sat down, the countess turning her chair so that she faced the curtains, he with his back to them. “How did you manage to escape?” she asked. “Captain Nadson saw to that.” “But your being there at the time of the arrest was an unnecessary risk, a very great risk.” “It is by taking big risks that you win big prizes! I thought that in the excitement of the moment they might let something drop that would be of great importance.” “But the danger from the revolutionists. If they had suspected--” “I played my part so well they couldn’t suspect! I killed three or four gendarmes myself. They’re cheap. Berloff tells me to shoot a few to keep up my reputation.” He leaned toward her and his eyes glistened. “I tell you, Zenia, the risk was worth while!” “Then you learned something?” “Did I? Listen. I learned that Borodin is Borski, and that the young woman arrested with me is the one who shot at Berloff. But that is not the best!” “No?” “I won’t tell you what it is now; Prince Berloff may wish it kept an absolute secret for a while. But it is something he’ll be glad to know. And he will pay well for it, too! It will be our fortune, Zenia, or I miss my guess!” Only the countess’s self-control enabled her to restrain a cry. For the curtains had parted, and Drexel, very white, had stepped noiselessly out. As it was she went suddenly pale. “What’s the matter?” queried Freeman.