"Your life is indeed a sad one, mademoiselle," I said, for I well-remembered the touching story she related when, a mere girl, pale-faced and agitated, she came to implore the protection of the British Government on behalf of her aged father. She had, with tears in her dark, brilliant eyes, told me a narrative of systematic persecution almost incredible; how her father, a wealthy merchant, having fallen into disfavour with General Sekerzhinski, the chief of Secret Police in St Petersburg, that official had formed a cunningly-devised plan to entrap him into a political conspiracy. She admitted that at one time, during the Terror that culminated in the murder of Alexander II, her father had participated in the revolutionary movement, and had spent eight years of solitary confinement in the Peter-Paul Fortress. Although he had long ago renounced all revolutionary ideas, it was, of course, easy enough for an all-powerful official like Sekerzhinski to discover evidence against him. The _agents provocateurs_ were quickly at work, with the result that orders were in a few days issued for the arrest of Korolenko for the murder of a woman in a low quarter of the city, and for the apprehension of his wife and their pretty daughter, Sonia, as accomplices. The reason of this allegation was plain. If the General had only alleged a political offence his victims could not be extradited from a foreign country, while for an ordinary crime they could. Korolenko's wife was arrested while shopping in the Nevski Prospekt, but Sonia and her father, fortunately, obtained word from a friend of theirs in the secret service, and fled, succeeding in escaping from St Petersburg into Finland, and after weeks of starvation and terrible hardships found themselves in Stockholm, whence they went to Hamburg. Here they narrowly escaped arrest by the German police, but succeeded in getting to Vienna, and thence to Venice, Marseilles, Madrid, and afterwards to Paris, where they had heard a large colony of Russian refugees resided. After two days, however, owing to a fact they ascertained, they fled to London. Here they believed themselves safe until one day they received another telegram from their friend in the secret police, warning them that a request for their extradition was on its way to London. It was then, in desperation, that Sonia came to crave an interview with Lord Warnham, and I had seen her on his behalf. Her story of wrong, hatred, and heartless persecution I have only here briefly outlined, but during the half-hour she had sat in the waiting-room at the Foreign Office relating it to me in detail she spoke with such earnestness that I was convinced of the truth, and resolved to assist her. Urging her to be assured that I would do all that lay in my power, she had at last dried her tears, and grasping my hand as she went out, had said,--