“In those sleighs, princess,” said he, “Ivan and Nicolai--you know them--followed me here. They and two others. See that man lounging across the street; that is Ivan, waiting for me to come out. I desire that you shall have no fear of me. So I am going over there to deliver myself back into their hands. I will send a note to my people saying I have been called to Moscow on business for an indefinite time. That is all. I wish you good-afternoon.” With that he bowed, and not waiting for a reply he strode from the room. Two minutes later he was across the street and beside one of the sleighs. “Hello, comrades!” he cried with a reckless laugh. “Get in. I’m going with you.” Nicolai and Ivan eyed him with silent suspicion, but they crawled in, one on either side. The sleigh was so narrow that Drexel had to sit upon their knees. “Now, comrades,” he went on, as they were drawing the robes high about them, “as I’m going to be a guest at that hotel of yours for some time, let’s stop along the way and get a mattress that isn’t paved with cobblestones. I don’t exactly fancy-- Hello! What’s that?” A blunt object had suddenly been thrust against the middle of his back. “That,” explained Ivan, “is the muzzle of your Browning.” “If you’re going to return my property,” said Drexel, “I wish you’d return it by some less direct route. You might hand it around me, for instance.” “We don’t know your game,” said Nicolai, “but if you make one suspicious move, or one cry, that pistol will go off.” “All right. But say there, Ivan, be careful, will you! I’ve got used to that spinal column of mine, and if you spoiled it I might never get another that suited me as well. Drive on.” The horse started up. But before it had fairly swung into a trot, some one running behind cried out, “Wait! Wait!” They drew up, and a man thrust a piece of paper into Nicolai’s hand and immediately turned back. Nicolai opened the paper and glanced at it. “Of all the strange things!” he cried, and turned the paper over to Ivan. “The devil!” exclaimed Ivan. “Where did it come from?” “The man who brought it looks like a servant,” said Nicolai, who was peering over his shoulder. “He is entering that great house.” “More wonderful still!” cried Ivan. “But the writing is certainly hers!” “And the signature! And an order is an order.” “Yes.” “See here, boys,” spoke up the mystified Drexel. “What does all this mean?” “I don’t know,” said Nicolai, as he threw open the robes. “But the order says you are to go back to the person you were talking to.” Drexel sprang from the sleigh. “Good-bye,” he shouted, and made for the Valenko door.