“No--really--thank you----” Sonya unbent still more--was the least bit gracious. “Come--let me give you a glass of tea just to show that I bear no ill will.” The captain flushed, gratified. “Well, just a glass of tea.” “Come, then”--and Sonya led the two men out. Drexel waited a minute, then slipped into the library. Already he had made one decision. If he remained in the house, Captain Nadson would be sure to see him. The captain might think himself mistaken regarding Sonya’s identity, if nothing new came to reawaken suspicion; but to see the exact likeness of both his fugitives in the house--the finest bluffing in the world would not avail to save them. He must fly the house, and fly the house at once. But to leave that instant meant to abandon what would likely be the only chance to learn the whereabouts of Borodin--to abandon his precious, newly made, uncemented friendship with Sonya. So he made a second decision. Sonya would keep the prince and Captain Nadson beside her for several minutes. It was a great risk, but he would go on with the search. He hurried back to the files, first closing the shutters and turning on the light, and went with feverish rapidity through the documents, his ears strained for the faintest approaching step. Paper after paper he skimmed. His heart pounded as if it would burst open his breast. Suddenly he gave a start. He heard a light footfall, a soft swish-swish--Sonya slipping back, he guessed. But when he peeped into the other room it was the countess he saw. She took down a book and settled herself in a chair; evidently she had come in here for a few minutes’ relief from the crowd. Drexel hesitated a moment--then went back to his work, and again the records of arrests, of exile, of nefarious plots, flew beneath his nervous hands, his eyes looking only for the name of Borodin. Noiselessly files came out, their pages were turned, then slipped back, while his strained fear counted the seconds. “Ah, Mr. Drexel!” said a low voice behind him. He whirled about. “Countess Baronova!” he breathed. She lightly crossed to him. “You are trying to find out about Borodin?” she whispered. “Yes.” “Then you were in earnest in what you said this morning--about being with us?” “Yes.” “I am proud--proud! To have won you to us--and so quickly!” she said softly, glowing upon him. And this marvellously clever actress told in her manner that the great infatuation for her which had led him to this action was returned. He did not disillusion her; to have done so would have taken time and would have exposed Sonya. “I must hurry,” he said, turning to his work. “I may be interrupted any second.” “And I will help you!” The next moment she, too, was fluttering through the records--and again she felt that peculiar tang of excitement, an excitement not quite like any she had experienced before in all her professional career.