She was awaiting him in her drawing-room, pale and rather worn, but no less richly handsome than usual. She had, however, nothing of her rallying good humour, her air of confident, luxurious grace. She told him that she had fallen into the hands of Captain Nadson and the Cossacks and had been taken by the captain privately before Prince Berloff. The prince had been most harsh with her, but to save his guests the unpleasantness of being involved in a scandal, he had decided to keep the matter secret for the present. They had all returned to St. Petersburg that day, except the prince; and she, though apparently free, was under what amounted to domiciliary arrest. What had happened was of course a little otherwise. When taken before Prince Berloff, she had told the story of her failure, and how she had struggled to prevent Drexel’s escape, and had been corroborated by the captain and by the bruised arms which she exhibited. The prince, bitterly disappointed as he was, had to attribute the failure to Drexel’s quickness of brain and body. Drexel told her in turn how he had got back to St. Petersburg. “I know you have not returned to your hotel, for I called it up,” said she. “Where have you gone?” Her pallor deepened as he answered her. “And so you are in the midst of a revolutionary plot!” she breathed. “But how did you know of that house?” Once more he was forced to give her an evasive reply. “Mr. Freeman told me of it.” She gazed at him for several moments, and appalling fear grew upon her. He was going right forward with this plot she had lured him into--this plot against his life! Suddenly she stretched out a jewelled hand and caught his arm. “Please--please do not go back to that house!” she cried. He stared at her. “Why?” “Please do not. I beg of you.” “But why?” he asked. “Only two days ago you urged me into this plan.” “I did not then realize the danger!” “I did. And I realize it now.” But not all the danger, she wanted to cry out. But to warn him of the whole of his danger would be to reveal to him the truth about herself. “And I am quite ready to face it,” he assured her. “I shall see this affair through to the end.” She turned ghastly white. If she spoke, he would spurn her, despise her. If she did not---- But she dared not speak. CHAPTER XVIII FOR A BROTHER’S LIFE At the coming on of dusk the next afternoon Sonya set out for the Fortress. All was staked on that one bold cast of the die--her brother’s freedom if she won, her capture if she lost. Drexel had besought her to let him be the partner of her danger, but she had replied that for him to come would be merely a useless risk, since he could not possibly save her if trouble rose; moreover, the governor certainly would not speak in the presence of a third person. So she rode on her errand alone.