“Are you ready, captain?” asked the governor. “All ready, colonel,” said Drexel. Freeman came out of his corner, and Drexel matched the movement by slipping toward the door. “Good-bye, comrades,” said the spy, in the tone of the last and long farewell. Brother and sister clasped the false hand, then moved toward the door. Drexel began to breathe again. Another minute and the cell door would be between him and Freeman. The spy twitched the governor’s sleeve. “Colonel,” he said in a low, eager voice, “my pardon will certainly be in your office--” The governor shook him off with an oath and turned his back upon him. Then, obeying his instinctive care, he examined first the irons on Sonya’s ankles then those upon her wrists. “Well, Captain Laroque,” he remarked with satisfaction, “I guess they’ll give you no trouble on the journey.” “Journey?” said Borodin. “Yes,” said the governor coolly. “Didn’t I tell you you were being removed to Schlusselburg?” “Schlusselburg!” exclaimed Borodin. “Schlusselburg!” exclaimed Freeman, springing forward. The life went out of Drexel. “You’re removing them to Schlusselburg?” Freeman demanded fiercely. “By whose order?” The governor answered with a curse and with a drive of his fist into Freeman’s chest. Freeman came back from the blow in a fury. “You’ll pay for that, Colonel Kavelin!” He turned to Drexel. “You’re taking them? Who are you?” He jerked the lantern from the governor and swung it into Drexel’s white face. He stared. Then his swollen, discoloured countenance gleamed with triumph. “This is no Captain Laroque!” his voice rang out. “He is a revolutionist! And this is no removal of prisoners to Schlusselburg! It’s a plot to set them free!” The governor, Borodin and Sonya gazed at Freeman, each amazed in a different way. Drexel seemed to be whirling downward into abysmal depths. “I denounce this as a plot!” Freeman cried on. “And this Captain Laroque is himself wanted by the police!” His face gleamed into Drexel’s. “Captain,” he exulted, “I think this puts us even!” Drexel had not a word. The governor looked at Drexel with suspicion. “What does this mean, captain?” Drexel desperately took his nerves in both his hands and summoned all his boldness. “I was going to ask you the same question, colonel,” said he. “Most noteworthy acting, captain,” put in Freeman sardonically. “But even such rare acting won’t save you now!” “I find,” Drexel continued to the governor, in a tone of cool comment, “that condemned revolutionists frequently lose their nerve at the last moment and go out of their head.” “I’m no revolutionist, Colonel Kavelin,” Freeman retorted. “I’m a secret agent of the political police. I’m the man that laid bare this whole plot. And with this Captain Laroque, you’ve got them all!” The governor wavered. Drexel saw it. He gave Freeman a black look--a Captain Laroque look. “You dog! Be careful, or you’ll go too far!” he warned.