"Never!" I replied. "Only the other evening they were asking me about St Petersburg, and both expressed a wish to visit your country." Paul, with his hands behind his back, and head bent in thought, paused for a moment, and then said,-- "From what I know of Ivan Renouf, I believe that were you to do him an evil turn, and obtain his dismissal from Pont Street, he would at once expose to the Ministry of the Interior how Sonia Korolenko obtained her passport. If he did so, the result would be disastrous to me, especially just at a time when our frontier regulations are extremely rigid." "What, then, is the best course to pursue?" I asked. He was silent, looking moodily into the fire. Then turning with a sudden movement, he said, with emphasis,--"You are my friend, Geoffrey. My future is in your hands." "Which means that my silence is imperative," I observed reflectively. Paul Verblioudovitch nodded, but uttered no word. If I denounced Renouf it was plain that my friend who had seriously imperilled his position at my urgent request, must undoubtedly suffer. In order to shield him I must therefore remain silent. With intense chagrin I saw myself ingeniously checkmated. I dared not allow one single syllable of suspicion regarding the German servant, who was, according to Mrs Laing, "a treasure," to escape my lips, and thus, as the weeks passed preceding my marriage, I was compelled to watch and wait without any outward sign. The reason of his vigilance was an inscrutable mystery. With Ella as my wife I had passed six blissful weeks, visiting many of the quaint, old-world towns in Central France. It had been Ella's fancy to do this. She hated the glare and glitter of Paris, and would only remain there the night on our outward and homeward journeys; indeed, cities had no charm for her, she preferred the lethargic provincial towns, from which we could make excursions into the country and spend the bright autumn days at old-fashioned inns. Fearing that she was becoming bored, I endeavoured to induce her to go to Biarritz or Pau, but to no avail. The crowded _table-d'hote_, of the popular resort possessed no attraction, and I rejoiced in secret, for we spent a far happier time wandering through the country than if installed in some garish hotel in the neighbourhood of a casino. Once, and only once since our marriage, had I made any mention of the death of Dudley Ogle. We were driving into the ancient town of Chateauroux, in the Indre, on the lumbering, dusty, old diligence that has performed the same daily journey for perhaps a century, when I chanced to incidentally utter his name, and express wonder when the mystery would be solved. We were speaking in English, not a word of which could be understood by our driver, but instantly she turned to me with a look of reproach, and, placing her little gloved hand on my mouth in haste, exclaimed,--