It was perhaps a dozen minutes since Drexel had entered the hotel. He strolled coolly enough down the stairway, but, the lobby gained, it was only with an effort that he maintained his calm exterior. Near the desk where he could see all who went and came, was the burly captain of gendarmes, his bearded face still ruddy with the outer cold. Reciting some story to him stood the major-domo. Upon the instant Drexel had to alter his plans. “Pardon me,” he said to the major-domo, giving the captain a short nod. “Yes, monsieur.” The major-domo turned to him. “Through some oversight my wife’s passport was left behind when we threw a few things together to run up here for a day. I suppose if I make explanations directly to the police department, there will be no trouble. I am quite willing to pay.” “It can be arranged, monsieur.” “I am tired and do not feel inclined to go out,” he went on with haughty indolence. “Would you please, when you get time, get the proper official on the telephone, explain, and ask him to come here? My wife is resting now; let him come in an hour. You can say to him that it will be worth his trouble.” “Certainly, certainly,” said the major-domo, who surmised this rich American would also make it worth his own trouble. “Anything else, monsieur?” “Send me the head waiter.” A porter went scurrying for that functionary. Drexel half turned away, and the major-domo resumed his recital to the captain. “The report says, Captain Nadson, that the woman gained admittance on the pretext of having an engagement. The servants could not clearly make out her face, for the light was dim and she was veiled; but her dress and manner made them believe her a lady of importance, and they told her to wait.” Drexel pricked up his ears. “It is certain she knew he was away, and chose her time accordingly, and it is certain she must have known the house well, for she slipped into his study and got into his private papers. When Prince Berloff--” “Prince Berloff!” exclaimed Drexel. He saw Captain Nadson give him a sharp look. Instantly he was under control. “He came in and found her?” he queried casually. “Yes,” said the major-domo. “But she fired two shots at him.” “Kill him?” Drexel nonchalantly asked. “No. She did not even touch him. And in the hubbub, she got away. The report says it was probably a plot of The White One.” “The White One!” A shiver crept through Drexel at that dread name. “The White One--yes,” nodded the major-domo. “Obviously a scheme to get some State papers which were temporarily in Prince Berloff’s possession. But the young woman failed. I wonder if they’ll capture her?” “I wonder,” Drexel repeated indifferently. To the head waiter, who just then appeared, he gave an order for an elaborate supper that would be a good hour in preparing. Then he casually inquired about the trains for the morrow, and learned that he could get a train for the south of Russia in half an hour.