“You won’t!” snapped Drexel. He pressed his chest squarely against that of the officer. “You dare touch my wife--the wife of an American citizen--and see what happens to you when I make my complaint! It will be the worst mistake of your life! As for this passport business, as soon as we get to Petersburg I shall fix it up with the chief of police.” He pointed at the door. “Now--you leave us!” The captain looked at the broad-shouldered young fellow, with the determined face and the flashing eyes. Looked and hesitated, for Drexel’s dominant bearing was not only the bearing of wrathful innocence, but it was eloquent of power to carry out his threat. The captain wavered, then broke. “I hope monsieur will excuse----” “Good-bye!” said Drexel sharply. The captain bowed and stumbled out. When Drexel turned the young woman was breathing rapidly and her face spoke many sensations--relief, excitement, gratitude, perhaps a glint of admiration. She gave him that direct gaze of hers and held out her hand. “Thank you--very much,” she said simply, in English. “I’m afraid I was rather melodramatic,” returned Drexel, somewhat lamely. “You could not have done it better. Thank you.” [Illustration: _“John, dear,” she said in purest English, “that bothersome passport must have been packed among your things”_] They sat down and for a moment looked at each other in silence. Her breath still came sharply. He was eager to know the meaning of all this; he was sure she would explain; but he said nothing, leaving it to her to speak or keep silent, as she would. She saw his curiosity. “You are surprised?” “I confess it.” “I am sorry so poorly to reward what you have done. But I cannot explain.” He inclined his head. “As you please.” “Thank you,” she said again. If Drexel had thought this incident was to establish them at once in close acquaintance, that hope soon began to suffer disappointment. There was no lack of courtesy, of gratitude, in her manner; he was already so far in her confidence that she dropped her mask of perfect control, and let him see that she was palpitantly alert and fearful; but she spoke to him no more than a bare monosyllable or two. Her fear spread to him. Mixed with his wonderment as to who she was, and what was this mysterious danger that menaced her, was a trembling apprehension lest the captain, recovered from his intimidation, should reappear in the compartment. But the captain did not reappear, and they rode on in their strange, strained silence. When the train drew into the Nicholayevsky Station in St. Petersburg, Drexel started to help her from the coach. She tried to check him, but he had her out upon the platform before she could say a word. She quickly held out her hand. “Good-bye,” she said hurriedly. “Good-bye?” he cried in dismay. “Yes. We shall not meet again.” An icy chill swept through him. “Not meet again! Why, I had hoped that you would let me come--”