Freeman shot up like a released spring, his dark face livid, and made to hurl himself upon the prince. Drexel seized an arm. Its tense muscles were like steel wire, and it flung him aside with one violent sweep, and again the terrorist made for the prince. For an instant Drexel feared for Berloff’s life; but officers from an adjoining table threw themselves upon the terrorist, and a moment later he was securely held by gendarmes. He struggled and hurled fierce defiance at the prince, who stood erect and impassive, with just the faintest tinge in his white cheeks. “You’ll remember this!” cried the terrorist, darkly. Berloff did not answer--gazed at him with cold contempt as he was bundled out. Perhaps he did remember--perhaps not. But afterward Drexel remembered--and remembered well. This sudden flare-up of passion drew upon them the curious stare of the dozens of people in the cafe, and the terrorist had not been five minutes gone before the other three withdrew, the prince going to the apartment he maintained for his occasional St. Petersburg visits, and Drexel and his uncle mounting to their rooms above. His uncle asked about Freeman, and Drexel told what was common knowledge, holding back the sinister information he had gained in Three Saints’ Court; for he had decided to say nothing, for the present at least, of his adventure with the young woman and the experiences into which it had led him. They had just finished dinner--at which the prince had joined them--when a card was handed to Drexel. He looked at it, and for a moment hesitated. “I’ll see him,” he said to the servant. “Have him shown to my sitting-room.” He excused himself and left the Howards’ apartment for his own quarters. He paced the room excitedly. Perhaps here was a clue through which he might find the young woman! But he was cool enough when the visitor entered. “Will you be seated, Mr. Freeman,” said he calmly. “Thank you,” said the correspondent, taking the indicated chair. “I dare say you are surprised to see me at liberty, after what just happened. Were I a Russian I should not be; but Russia is careful how she treats citizens of powerful foreign countries.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But enough of that. I have come on what I hope will prove an acceptable matter of business to you; on what is to me a matter of humanity, and-- But we’ll pass my motives. May I trouble you for two minutes?” “You may,” said Drexel. Freeman drew his chair nearer. “I must begin by taking you into my confidence, a confidence I know you will respect. My real purpose in Russia is actively to help the revolutionists in their struggle. Perhaps you wonder at my confiding in a person who is to be the cousin of Prince Berloff. But I believe I am shrewd enough to have seen that no love is lost between Prince Berloff and yourself. Am I right?” “Go on,” said Drexel.