She wondered if he had discovered what office the prince held. “Is there anything,” she asked, “that makes you think Prince Berloff especially may possess the evidence we seek?” He remembered Sonya’s statement that their knowledge of Berloff’s position was a close secret. “He seems intimate with the Government, as I told you,” he replied. Several minutes passed. The two worked swiftly, in silence. Finally Drexel straightened up with a low cry of triumph. “You have it?” asked the countess. “Yes--at last!” “Where is he?” “In the Fortress of Saints Peter and Paul! In St. Petersburg!” He swiftly put back the files. Perhaps he had already remained too long. “Countess,” he whispered, “I am going to leave the house immediately.” “I was just going to suggest it,” she returned. “It would be dangerous for you here. The prince has a violent temper; if he found out he might stop at nothing. And I shall go with you.” “Go with me?” “I have led you into this. Do you think I shall desert you?” “But countess----” “Don’t protest. Besides, I can help you.” Her brain had worked as rapidly as her hands, and she had a plan in readiness. “I had this same idea for finding out about Borodin before I came here. So I prepared for my escape. I have bribed one of the servants. He is to have a horse and sleigh ready at a moment’s notice.” “No, no, countess. I can’t let you run into this danger!” “Not when I am the cause of the danger?” “No, no, I cannot! But I must go.” He started across the room. She followed him. “But how will you escape?” “I’ll say that I’ve been suddenly called away, and ask for a sleigh to the station,” he said as they entered the library. “I’ll be far away before they----” He broke off. The countess gave a counterfeit cry of dismay. Before them stood the figure of Prince Berloff. The pale mask of cultured gentlemanliness was down, and all his relentless cruelty glared at Drexel in a scowl of dark, malignant passion. “What were you doing in my papers?” his voice grated out. Perhaps the prince had seen nothing, was merely suspicious. “What papers?” Drexel asked, with an effort at surprise. “You cannot pretend innocence! I came in here a minute ago--heard whispers--looked in and saw you in my private papers.” Drexel, feeling there remained for him but the slenderest chance, did not see wherein that chance would be bettered by a mild demeanour. Besides, the mere sight of the man set his soul afire with wrath and hatred. “Well, suppose I was? What then?” he coolly demanded. “What were you looking for? What did you find out?” Drexel shrugged his shoulders. “Speak out! What were you looking for?” “I do not choose to tell,” returned Drexel calmly. “You do not choose to tell--eh?” repeated the prince. “I think you do!” And he drew a pistol and pointed it at Drexel’s breast.