"Why should I not sleep so softly always?" and her voice was thick.

He laughed hoa.r.s.ely.

"Who knows? Life is a gamble in these days. You must ask your interesting German friend."

She became ghastly white--that there was real danger was beginning to dawn upon her. The rouge stood out like that on the painted face of a clown.

Verisschenzko remained completely unmoved. He pressed the bell, and his Russian servant, warned beforehand, brought him in his fur coat and hat, and a.s.sisted him to put them on.

"I will take Madame to get her cloak," he announced calmly. "Wait here to show us out."

There was nothing for Harietta to do but follow him, as he went towards the bedroom door. She was stunned.

He walked over to the Ikon, and slipping a paper knife under them opened wide the doors; then he turned to her, and the very life melted within her when she saw his face.

"This is your work," and he pointed to the mutilations, "and for that and many other things, Harietta, you shall at last pay the price. Now come, I will take you back to your lover, and your husband--both will be waiting and longing for your return. Come!"

She dropped on the floor and refused to move so that he was obliged to call in the servant, and together they lifted her, the one holding her up, while the other wrapped her in her cloak. Then, each supporting her, they made their way down the stairs, and placed her in the waiting motor, Verisschenzko taking the seat at her side--and so they drove to the Universal. She should sleep to-night in peace and have time to think over the events of the evening. But to-morrow he must no longer delay about giving information to the authorities.

She cowered in the motor until they had almost reached the door, when she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him wildly again, sobbing with rage and terror:

"You shall not marry Amaryllis; I will kill you both first."

He smiled in the darkness, and she felt that he was mocking her, and suddenly turned and bit his arm, her teeth meeting in the cloth of his fur-lined coat.

He shook her off as he would have done a rat:

"Never quite apropos, Harietta! Always a little late! But here we have arrived, and you will not care for your admirers, the concierge, and the lift men, to see you in such a state. Put your veil over your face and go quietly to your rooms. I will wish you a very good-night--and farewell!"

He got out and stood with mock respect uncovered to a.s.sist her, and she was obliged to follow him. The hall porter and the numerous personnel of the hotel were looking on.

He bowed once more and appeared to kiss her hand:

"Good-bye, Harietta! Sleep well."

Then he re-entered the car and was whirled away.

She staggered for a second and then moved forward to the lift. But as she went in, two tall men who had been waiting stepped forward and joined her, and all three were carried aloft, and as she walked to her salon she saw that they were following her.

"There will be no more kicks for thee, my Angel!" the maid, peeping from a door, whispered exultingly to Fou-Chow! "Thy Marie has saved thee at last!"

When Verisschenzko again reached his own sitting room he paced up and down for half an hour. He was horribly agitated, and angry with himself for being so.

Denzil had been right; when it came to the point, it was a ghastly thing to have to do, to give a woman up to death--even though her crimes amply justified such action.

And what was death?

To such a one as Harietta what would death mean?

A sinking into oblivion for a period, and then a rebirth in some sphere of suffering where the first lessons of the meanings of things might be learned? That would seem to be the probable working of the law--so that she might eventually obtain a soul.

He must not speculate further about her though, he must keep his nerve.

And his own life--what would it now become? Would the spirit of freedom, stirring in his beloved country, arrive at any good? Or would the red current of revolution, once let loose, swamp all reason and flow in rivers of blood?

He would be powerless to help if he let weakness overmaster him now.

The immediate picture looked black and hopeless to his far-seeing eyes.

But his place must be in Petrograd now, until the end. His activities, which had obliged him to be away from Russia, were finished, and new ones had begun which he must direct, there in the heart of things.

"The world is aching for freedom, G.o.d," his stormy thoughts ran, "but we cannot hope to receive it until we have paid the price of the aeons of greed and self-seeking which have held us, the ignorance, the low material gain. We must now reap that sowing. The divine Christ--one man--was enough as a sacrifice in that old period of the world's day--but now there must be a holocaust of the bravest and best for our purification."

He threw himself into his chair and gazed into the glowing embers. What pictures were forming themselves there? Nations arising glorified by a new religion of common sense, education universally enjoyed, the great forces studied, and Nature's fundamental principles reckoned with and understood.

To hunt his food.

To recreate his species.

_And to kill his enemy._

A bright blade sheathed but ready, a clear judgment trained and used, ideals n.o.bly striven for, and Wisdom the High Priest of G.o.d.

These were the visions he saw in the fire, and he started to his feet and stretched out his arms.

"Strength, G.o.d! Strength!" that was his prayer.

"That we may go-- Armoured and militant, New-pithed, new-souled, new-visioned, up the steeps To those great alt.i.tudes whereat the weak Live not, but only the strong Have leave to strive, and suffer, and achieve."

Then he sat down and wrote to Denzil.

"I have all the needed proofs, my friend. Marry my soul's lady in peace and make her happy. There come some phases in a man's life which require all his will to face. I hope I am no weakling. I return to Russia immediately. Events there will enable me to blot out some disturbing memories.

"The end is not yet. Indeed, I feel that my real life is only just beginning.

"Ferdinand Ardayre is deeply incriminated with Harietta; it is only a question of a little time and he will be taken too. Then, Denzil, you, in the natural course of events, would have been the Head of the Family. You will need all your philosophy never to feel any jar in the situation with your son as the years go on. You will have to look at it squarely, dear old friend, and know that it is impossible to have interfered with destiny and to have gone scott free. Then you will be able to accept t.i.tle affair with common sense and prize what you have obtained, without spoiling it with futile regrets. You have paid most of your score with wounds and suffering, and now can expect what happiness the agony of the world can let a man enjoy.

"My blessings to you both and to the Ardayre son.

"And now adieu for a long time."

He had hardly written the last line when the telephone rang, and the frantic voice of Stanisla.s.s, his ancient friend, called to him!

Harietta had been taken away to St. Lazare--her maid had denounced her.

What could be done?