“You cannot come,” she went on swiftly. “And you must not try to follow me.” That was the plan that had instantly shot into his head. “But--” he pleaded. “You must not!” He hesitated. A look from those blue eyes, straight into his own. “You will not. I trust you.” He bowed his head. “I shall not.” “Good-bye--and thank you,” said she. He gripped her hand. “Good-bye,” he said. And he gathered in his last look of her. But suddenly, when he thought he had lost her, her hand slipped through his arm--slipped through it as with wifely habit--and she was saying to him in a hurried whisper: “Don’t look back. That gendarme captain is working this way. I think he’s not wholly satisfied. I must at least leave with you. Come.” Again Drexel did not blink. Instantly he was leading her along the platform, arm in arm, with the easy manner of four or five married years. In the open square before the station scores of bearded drivers, swathed in blankets till they looked like bulky mummies, were clamorously shouting, “_Isvochtchik! Isvochtchik!_” One of these Drexel signalled. He was helping her into the little sleigh when he saw her give a calm, steady look to some one behind him. Turning, he saw the captain, for whom a sleigh was drawing up to the curb. Drexel gave him a curt nod, stepped into the foot-high sleigh and drew the fur robe about them. The driver cracked his whip and the horse sprang away. “After a few blocks you can set me down,” she whispered. For even that respite Drexel was grateful. “Where shall I take my lord?” came over the driver’s shoulder. “Up Nevsky Prospect,” Drexel ordered. They turned into bright-lit Nevsky Prospect, thronged with flashing sleighs, and glided without speech over the polished snow. After a few moments she glanced back. She clutched his arm. “He is behind us!” He did not need to be told not to turn his head. “The captain?” “Yes.” “Do you think he is following us?” “Perhaps he is only taking the same direction by chance. Let us stop a few times. That will show us.” Drexel gave the necessary orders. They made a stop at a fruit store, another at a confectioner’s--but when she looked back, there, at a distance, was the captain jogging in their tracks. “He is following--that’s certain!” she breathed. “He is suspicious, but hesitates to do anything, and thinks it wisest to watch us. Apparently there is no shaking him.” Suddenly a new idea rushed into Drexel’s head. He looked down into her face; he tried to speak steadily--tried to keep his joy out of his voice. “Do you remember what we told that officer--that we were husband and wife?” “Yes.” “Till we can get rid of him, our only safety is in keeping up that pretence. If we make one suspicious move he will pounce upon us. You and I, we must stay together.” She was silent. “Don’t you see that?” he asked. “Yes. But the danger to you?” “That? That is nothing!” he cried. “Will you come with me?” She looked steadily at him a moment.