“And this is the man that my cousin--” He looked at her blankly. “Yes,” said she. “And the man I would have married, too, could my father have had his way. He was after my money, just as he is after your cousin’s. His ambition knows no limit--nor his unscrupulousness. He uses his office to further his own ends. If any stand in the way of his ambition, his control of the infamous machinery of the secret police gives him power to do away with them in a dozen ways--by death, exile, or imprisonment.” “And he has done that?” “Again and again. He would wipe me out of existence without a moment’s hesitation could he safely do it; with my brother outlawed, that would make him heir to my father’s estate. He will either be Russia’s prime minister, or else, before then, some terrorist--” The lifting of her shoulders spoke the rest. A mystery that had puzzled Drexel for near a week was suddenly illumined. “I see now why you feared me, that night in the hotel, when I told you who I was!” “Yes. The friend, the guest, the kinsman of Prince Berloff seemed indeed a man to flee from.” “To think that we have never guessed what he is!” “Only a very few in the Government know the office he fills, and only a few of us. He works through one or two trusty subordinates who are nominally the head of the system.” “But what are his reasons for this concealment?” “In the first place, since no one suspects what he is, he can work more craftily. In the second place--well, you can guess that a chief of spies is not exactly a popular idol. Von Plevhe spent a million rubles a year to protect his person, and even with that he died by a terrorist’s bomb. Instead of defending himself by the vain expenditure of a million on personal guards, Prince Berloff defends himself by keeping his hated office a secret.” “I see. But why have you revolutionists not exposed him?” “We have kept the matter a secret for much the same reason that he has kept it secret. So long as he believes himself unsuspected, we can work all the better against him.” He stared at her. He remembered how calmly, how haughtily she had stood beside Prince Berloff, who had never a thought that the woman upon his arm was his bitter enemy, was fighting him with her very wit. And then, with a thrill of wonderment, he began to consider what a marvel it was that this young woman who had everything--great wealth, princely birth, such homage as was given to but few in a nation--everything that the world prized, should care so little for them all. “I cannot understand, princess--” he began slowly. “Do not call me princess!” she interrupted, her face beginning to glow. “I hate the word! Since you know me for what I am, call me what my comrades call me. Call me Sonya.” “It is hard for me to understand then, how you are willing to risk position, rank, wealth--” She rose and stood before him, her beauty heightened by the deepening glow of her face, by the flash of her eyes.