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H r D

Marshall C. Cheney

THE MISSION OF POUBRLOV

BY

FREDERICK R. BURTON.

\h\V YORK

STRH1-T & SMITH, PUBLISHKKS

jt Rosi- STKHI-T

Ex

M /an CHfer

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CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGK

I — Her Wedding Morning 7

II— An Explanation Suggested 15

III — An Imperfect Vision '23

IV — Clara's Search Begins 31

V— The Agent of the Czar 39

VI- Litizki at Work 47

VII— A Dangerous Man 55

VIII -In the Hands of the Enemy 63

IX — Litizki's Lesson 71

X — Corroborative Detail 78

XI- Strange Exit of Poubalov 87

XII — Litizki Breaks His Appointment 95

XIII— What Became of Litizki 103

XIV— A New Departure Ill

XV —Louise lieceives a Caller 119

XVI— Lizzie White 127

XVII — How Litizki Saved Miss Hilman 135

XVIII— The Key to Ivan's Prison 143

XIX -The Ghost of Poubalov 151

XX— The Little Front Room . 159

XXI -What Paul Palovna Saw 167

XXII— Ponbalov's Revolution 175

XXIII— At One O'clock A.M 183

XXIV— The New Clew 191

XXV -A Stubborn Antagonist 199

XXVI -Hide and Seek 207

XXVII— Behind Closed Doors 216

XXVIII— Poubalov Succeeds 225

A WEDDING BUT RATHER LATE

CHAPTER I.

THEIR WEDDING MORNING.

Ivan pulled aside the curtain and looked up at the sky. It was as clear as crystal, as blue as the eyes of his be- loved, the promise fulfilled of a perfect day. On a win. dow cornice across the street a tiny bird perked his head toward the sun and chirped noisily. To a lively imagina- tion kindled by fond anticipations the twittering of the bird would have seemed like music. So it was to Ivan. His heart responded with unformed melodies, and some of their stray notes found their way humming to his throat as he hastened his toilet.

A long process it was in spite of his haste. Every outer garment, though but yesterday brought by the tailor, had to be brushed with exquisite care, and when it came to adjusting his tie, what with finding in the light of this beautiful morning that not one of the numerous as- sortment seemed to be bright enough for the occasion, and having rejected all in turn, and having selected one at last that might be made to do, and having found the knot and loosed it — well, time had passed, and under ordi- nary circn-m stances patience might have gone with it. Or- dinary, tlae circumstances were not, and if they had been I presume any tie could have, and would have been thrown together in a shape not less pleasing than that which finally caused him to turn from the mirror in cheer- ful despair and ring for breakfast.

8 THEIR WEDDING MORNING.

for she had been expecting it with quivering anxietjr for the last half hour. Good soul! With eggs at thirty-five cents a dozen she nevertheless plunged two in hot water every four minutes, in order that her lodger might not trace the slightest sense of disappointment, on this event- ful day, to her.

"I do hope his last breakfast here will be a pleasant one, " she said when her daughter protested against the extravagance.

There was certainly nothing in the plain breakfast to call for criticism. Ivan might not have noticed it if there had been, for his thoughts were elsewhere, and his emo- tions were stirred by causes at once more delicate and more powerful than appetite; but Mrs. White was prob- ably in the right. It would have been a pity to permit any chance of a jarring note however slight in the har- mony that pervaded his being.

Ivan greeted his landlady gayly, and attacked his meal as if there were no such thing as love in the world, love that makes man melancholy, that destroys the delights of good living, that drives him to the production of gloomy wails in more or less eccentric verse. There was no such love for him. Out of the storm and stress of an event- ful career, in which misfortune had rained its blows upon him with undue severity, love had arisen like the com- forting glow of b. home hearth fire, and it shone upon his exile with naught in its beams but serenity and peace. Ivan was happy.

Breakfast was hardly begun when Mrs. White again ap- peared.

"There's a gentleman to see you, Mr. Strobel, " she said hesitatingly; "I didn't like to disturb you, but he seemed very anxious, and so I said I would see if you were at home."

She laid a card upon the breakfast table and waited. Ivan glanced at it and frowned. So, there must needs be a cloud upon this day to remind him, as if he needed it!

THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 9

how surely the sun of happiness was shining for him. Al- exander Poubalov ! What could he be doing in America, and what could have led him to call at just this juncture? Bah ! there could be no significance in it, nothing but a memory of troublous experiences could be evoked by his presence, nothing connected with that past could possibly intervene now between him and the new life upon which he was joyously entering.

Mrs. White was sorely distressed, for she saw that her lodger was disturbed, and in her motherly heart she wished that she had told the stranger below one of those white lies that have come to be regarded as not sinful in that they effect at least a postponement of evil. She might have said that Mr. Strobel was engaged, or that he had given up his room a week before. Both statements would have been true enough for the Recording Angel's book, goodness knows!

"If you had only just gone, or if he had come an hour later," she murmured plaintively.

"Oh, there's nothing the matter, " cried Ivan, lightly; "I was simply wondering what in the world he could want with me. I haven't seen him for five years. Show him up, please."

Not half satisfied that nothing was the matter, Mrs. White obeyed, and presently Alexander Poubalov stood upon the threshold. He was a distinguished-looking man, tall, swarthy, middle-aged, a remarkable contrast to his fair-haired fellow countryman, Ivan Strobel.

"I am indeeed glad to see you, Strobel, " he said, his deep tones vibrant as a church bell; "may I come in?"

"I received your card and I sent for you," replied Ivan, coldly. He had risen and was standing by the breakfast table.

"I shall be sorry if I have disturbed you, for I had no such purpose in calling upon you. Pray go on with your breakfast," and Poubalov took a step or two forward, as if waiting for an invitation to sit down.

Mrs. White was prompt in responding to the summons,

10 THEIR WEDDING MORNING.

"To what purpose, then, may I attribute your call?" asked Ivan, without stirring.

"You are in haste, my friend," replied Poubalov, smil- ing; "you have probably learned the American habit of putting business ahead of all other things ; but I see, too, that there may be some especial reason to-day for hurry. You are dressed to go out, and you have packed your trunks "

"It is quite like you," interrupted Ivan, "to note every detail and attach some significance of your own to it. You are right, however, on this occasion. Time is precious with me to-day. I am to be married at noon."

"Ah! married! Strobel,"and Poubalov made as if he would extend his hand, "I wish you would permit me to congratulate you."

"It is unnecessary, " responded Ivan, remaining like a statue by his chair.

Poubalov shrugged his shoulders and looked disap- pointed.

"As you will," he said, "and perhaps it would be as well to postpone my call, as it seems you regard it as an unhappy intrusion."

"If you have any business other than that attending to a spy in general, " said Ivan, "I shall be pleased if you will dispatch it now. If, on the contrary, you still have any interest in my movements, I will give you my itiner- ary, and you can follow me if you like. I will only sug- gest that we are not in Russia, and that it is not my in- tention to go outside the jurisdiction of the United States."

"You need only tell me, if you have no objection," re- plied Poubalov, "where I may look for you some time after your wedding journey."

Ivan picked up Poubalov 's card and wrote an address upon it. "I shall live there," he said, handing the card to his caller. "I expect to return in two weeks."

Poubalov read the card and thoughtfully placed it in his pocketbook. "If I knew how to, Strobel, " he remarked

THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 11

gravely, "I would assure you that you need have no anxiety on my account during your honeymoon, or after- ward; but I see clearly that now, as heretofore, you will place no reliance whatever upon my words, and that you discredit my motives."

"You speak truly," said Ivan; "but we will not discuss the reasons for my distrust. You know them even better than I do. You may spare yourself any words. I shall not be disturbed by anxiety."

"On another occasion, then, I may hope for a somewhat extended conversation. Good-morning. My good wishes would doubtless be repugnant to you."

Ivan bowed silently and Poubalov withdrew.

"Strange that I should be pursued after all this lapse of time, and to this far country," thought Ivan; "but I have done right. I have nothing to fear from Poubalov or the government whose paid spy he is '

He looked at his watch, and, resuming his place at the table, hastily swallowed a cup of coffee. Mrs. White's eggs remained unbroken.

A carriage was waiting for him at the door and it was time that he should go, for the wedding was to take place at Rev. Dr. Merrill's little church in Eoxbury, four miles away. With moderate driving and no accident he would be there in time to meet the bridal party at the door. A happy farewell to his landlady and her daughter, and he was off.

He did not notice that as his coupe turned into Somer- set Street from Ashburton Place, a closed carriage left its position not far from Mrs. White's door and followed. If he had observed it he would have thought nothing of it, for in Boston other persons besides bridegrooms employ public conveyances, and it is not always that a cabman is employed to drive a fare to a wedding.

Ivan's coupe rolled gently down Park Street, and just as it reached the corner of Tremont, one of the forward wheels came off. The passenger was precipitated forward, and the driver with difficulty kept his seat. He climbed

12 THEIR WEDDING MORNING.

down in a moment, angry and bewildered. He could dis- cover no break about his vehicle, but there was the wi upon the ground, there was the body leaning forward, straining upon the shafts, disconcerting the horse—

"Open the door!" cried Ivan, imperatively; "I can't be shut up here!"

The driver got the door open after a little trouble and Ivan crawled out.

"I don't see how it happened," began the driver.

"No matter. It can't be helped in a minute, can it? I must have another conveyance."

A crowd was quickly gathering, and as Ivan looked around him he caught the eye of the driver of the closed carriage.

"Are you engaged?" called Ivan. Then, as the driver signified his willingness to take a fare, Ivan recoiled. The carriage looked as if it were on the way to a funeral. He hated presentiments, and despised himself for the momen- tary feeling of discomfort.

"You can pull down the curtains, sir, after you get in," said the driver as if he had noticed his prospective passen- ger's discomfort. "Where to, sir?" he continued with his hand on the door.

Ivan told him and with a "Hurry, please, " bolted into the carriage.

The driver sprang to his seat as if his salvation de- ponded on his speed, lashed his horse heavily, and the carriage fairly leaped through the crowd and down Tre- mont Street. It was a beautiful June morning and the passenger was on his way to his own wedding, but he did not lower the curtains of the gloomy carriage.

A gentle quiver of excitement stirred the congregation that filled the little vine-covered church on Parker Ave- nue as the clock tolled the noon hour ai»d the organist be- gan to play softly, his fingers weaving scraps of melody into a vague but pleasing harmony like the light that fil- tered through the stained glass windows. This was but

THEIR WEDDING MORNING. 13

the suggestion of a coming outburst of harmony, for pres- ently, as the joyful procession would be ready to move, he would open all the gates of sound and flood the edifice with the triumphal strains of the Wedding March, strains that seem light and music, too, to all listeners and be- holders. Within the vestibule the bridal party awaited the coming of the groom. There, too, were Ivan's two friends, to do him honor by marching with him ; one a Eussian like himself, the other an American. With smiling faces they all endeavored to conceal annoyance that was speedily turning to anxiety over Ivan's delay.

Clara Hilman, as lovely a bride as ever donned the orange-decked veil, stood with palpitating heart beside her uncle and guardian, Matthew Pembroke. With awk- ward words he was trying to soothe what he felt must be her fears. All about them were pretty children dressed to follow the bride, and Clara's dearest girl friends. Within the chancel Di. Merrill waited, wondering a little, but not permitting himself to attach hasty blame to anybody for this embarrassing hitch in the proceedings. The or- ganist looked inquiringly at the group that had found places in the choir loft and they returned his gaze by shakes of the head.

"You are more nervous than I am, uncle," said Clara with an attempt at bravery, though her trembling lips betrayed her; "he will be here."

"There he is!" cried Ralph Harmon, one of Ivan's friends, as a carriage was seen to turn into the avenue from a street a little way off, and come hurrying toward the church. "Be ready to tell the organist," he whispered to a boy who stood near.

The waiting procession fell into partial disarray as every one craned his or her neck to see the bridegroom step from the carriage which now halted at the steps All, nearly all, could see through the open doors as the driver dismounted and opened the door.

A shiver of disappointment passed over the wedding

U THEIR WEDDING MORNING,

party. An old, bent man issued from the carriage, leaning heavily on a cane and hobbled up the steps.

"This is stranger than Ivan's delay!" exclaimed Har- mon in a whisper to his Russian colleague; "I don't be- lieve old Dexter ever went to a wedding before unless it was his own, and I never knew he was married."

"Who is he?" asked the Russian.

"Old Dexter is all I can say. He's a kind of miser and money-lender combined, I think. I don't believe he's any friend of Ivan's."

"No. He's bowing to Mr. Pembroke."

Very ceremoniously but with a halting movement, the old man had taken off his hat to Mr. Pembroke and passed on into the church. Mr. Pembroke had bowed stiffly in return and then bent over his niece to speak to her.

Clara was by this time plainly disturbed. It was a quarter past the hour, and the congregation itself was getting nervous. A few persons came out into the vesti- bule to learn what caused the delay. The organist's flit- ting harmonies became monotonous, intolerable, and the rector within the chancel was not so impatient as alarmed.

A few minutes later the organist stopped altogether. The rector joined the wedding party in the vestibule. Clara had been taken to a room in the vestry by her guardian.

"If he should come now," said Mr. Pembroke, gravely, I don't believe we could go on. The strain has been too great for Clara."

Dr. Merrill spoke to her as only a clergyman can speak to a parishioner, and minutes dragged along.

At last when an hour had passed, and there was yet no word from Ivan, the rector dismissed the congregation, and the members of the wedding party went homeward, wondering and sorrowful.

AN EXPLANA TION S UG GESTED. 15

CHAPTER II.

AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED.

"Wait for me a moment, Paul," said Ralph Harmon as the people began to pour out of the church.

He went to the room in the vestry where Clara Hilman sat pale and tearless. With her were Mr. Pembroke, his daughter Louise, and two or three other young ladies who were intimate friends of the unfortunate bride. Ralph did not approach the group, -but paused at the door and looked significantly at Miss Pembroke. She went to him at once, and, unseen by the others, he took both her hands in his and said:

" I am going to Strobel's room and shall take PaloTna with me. If I find any trace or news, as I undoubtedly shall, I will go directly to your house and report. You may tell Hiss Hilman so if you think it will relieve her."

"Clara, dear!" exclaimed Miss Pembroke, impulsively, "Ralph is going to find Ivan, and will come back as quickly as he can to tell you."

For several minutes the bride had been sitting as if pet- rified, making no answer to the well-meant questions of her friends, unconscious apparently of their tearful sym- pathy, but at this announcement her eyes were lit by just a gleam of gratitude and she tried to speak to Ralph. Her lips quivered with unformed words, and she turned ap- pealingly to her uncle.

"Come," she faltered, "let us go home."

Ralph bowed and returned immediately to the vesti- bule, where Paul Palovna waited for him. Both were ac- costed by many of the outgoing audience, but they shook their heads and hurried down the steps and up the street to the nearest line of cars. They said little to each other

16 AN EXPLANATION SUG GESTED.

on the way to Ashburton Place, for they were oppressed with forebodings, and the consciousness that they had nothing upon which to base speculation.

Once Ralph exclaimed desperately, "What can have happened!" and Paul answered, "He must have fallen violently ill." Both hoped that this might be the case, and neither believed it. Mrs. White knew them both, for they were frequent callers upon her lodger, and her sur- prise, therefore, passed all bounds when she met them at the door and heard them ask as with one voice, "Where isStrobel?"

"Where?" she repeated, "where should he be? Haven't you seen him?"

"No, " replied Ralph, *' he did not come to the church, and the rector dismissed the congregation."

Mrs. White threw up her hands and sank into a chair. "Why — why — " she stammered, "he left here all dressed and gay as could be."

"Did he seem quite well?" asked Paul.

The good lady remembered her surprise and disappoint- ment at finding Ivan's eggs unbroken, his breakfast almost untasted and she told the young men about it.

"That signifies nothing," said Paul; "I don't wonder he didn't care to eat. Did he appear to be troubled about anything?"

"Not when he went away," answered Mrs. White; "I thought he seemed put out when the strange gentleman called."

"There we have it!" exclaimed Paul, eagerly. "Who was the caller and what was his business, if you happen to know?"

"1 don't know either. I never saw the gentleman be- fore. He was here only a few minutes. He sent up his card, and though I looked at the name, I couldn't remem- ber it, for it had a strange look, something like yours." "May we go to his room? The card may still be there." "I don't think it is," said Mrs. White, rising to follow

AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. 17

the young men who were already half way up the stairs; "I don't remember seeing it when I cleaned up."

When Ralph and Paul had vainly examined the catch- alls, the vases, and every probable place into which a vis- itor's card might have been tucked, the Russian asked what had been done with the contents of the waste basket.

"My daughter Lizzie helped me, " replied Mrs. White, "and took the waste papers downstairs. I'll ask her to find them and look for the card."

She left the room, and while she was gone the young men moved about nervously, repeatedly asking who the caller could have been, what possible connection his call could have had with Ivan's failure to appear at his wed- 'ding, and all manner of questions, vain and irritating, that arise when men are confronted by an emergency that teems with mystery. Mrs. White reported that her daughter had gone out and that the waste paper from Mr. Strobel's room had been burned.

"Lizzie may have seen that card, "she said, "and I'll ask her when she comes in. I can't think where she can have gone."

"Was she here when the stranger called?" asked Ralph.

"Oh, yes, and until after Mr. Strobel started away. I didn't know that she had left the house, and I can't imag- in what she went out for. Perhaps she'll be back soon."

"Do you know where Strobel hired his carriage?" inquired Paul.

"No, I don't, Lizzie might, for I remember he said something to her about it the day before. I wonder where she "

"He probably ordered his carriage from Clark & Brown, " said Ralph to Paul. He had no intention of ig- noring Mrs. White's motherly anxiety about her daugh- ter, but he saw no reason for attaching significance to her absence, and his mind was burdened with a growing con- viction that something serious had happened to his friend.

18 AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED.

"Suppose we make some inquiries," responded Paul. "If you will go to Clark & Brown's office, I will take a run around all the hotel cab-stands in the vicinity. He might have left his order at the Tremont House or in Bos- worth Street, you know."

"I'm agreed, " said Ralph. "We must get hold of the man who drove him. One of us is likely to succeed. Sup- pose, as Strobel may after all turn up at any minute, we meet here as soon as we can. I'll take in the Revere House as well as Clark & Brown's."

"I wish you would meet here, gentlemen," interposed Mrs. White; "Lizzie may be back then."

"I hope she will be, Mrs. White," said Ralph. "She may be able to tell us something about Strobel. It seems strange that he hasn't sent some word."

"I begin to fear that we shall find him at a hospital, badly injured," remarked Paul.

"Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed Mrs. White. "I declare! it makes me feel dreadfully about Lizzie."

The young men departed at once upon their errands. It was Paul Palovna who came upon a clew. He found where Ivan had engaged his carriage, and he went to the livery stable, which was in the South End, to find what had become of the driver and his passenger. He arrived there just after the driver had come in with his damaged carriage.

"I started in with the gentleman," said the driver, "but I broke down at the corner of Tremont and Park Streets and he went along with somebody else."

"Who was it?" asked Paul.

"I don't know. I never saw the cabman before."

"Whose rig was it?"

"I don't know that, either. I never saw the horse be- fore, and the carriage was like hundreds of others that you might see in Boston any day."

Paul tried to think what ought to be done next.

"Did Mr. Strobel have a second accident?" asked one of the stable proprietors.

AN EXPLANATION SUG GESTED. 19

"I fear so," replied Paul; "we haven't seen him, and as he was going to his own wedding, his failure to turn up is rather alarming."

"Going to be married, was he?" the stableman spoke thoughtfully. "Then I guess you'll find that he has been made the victim of a practical joke. I suppose he had plenty of friends who were aware of his intentions?"

"Certainly, but I cannot imagine," said Paul with some indignation, "that any of them would have carried a joke to the extent of keeing him away from his wedding."

"Perhaps not, " admitted the stableman, "but it looks as if some one had deliberately tried to delay him. Don't you know how the accident happened to our carriage?"

"No. What was the matter?"

"Somebody had loosened the nut of the forward right wheel so that it was bound to come off before they had gone very far. The breakdown was no accident."

"You are sure of this, I suppose," exclaimed Paul; "but when could it have been done?"

"When Mike was waiting in front of the door to Mr. Strobel's place. You'd better tell this gentleman what you told me, Mike."

"I waited there a good half hour before Mr. Strobel came out," replied the driver. "And while I was there a fellow crossed the street and spoke to me. He stood in the street kind o' leaning on the wheel. 'Go'n' to take Mr. Strobel to his wedding?' says he. 'I'm go'n' to take a gent of that name,' says I 'but I don't know nothing 'bout his wed- ding.' 'That's what 'tis,' says he, 'and a very fine man he is, and a fine day it is for the ceremony; and that's a fine horse you have, ' and all that kind of palaver, till I thought he'd talk me blind. After a while he said good- morning, and went on, bad luck to him."

Paul looked at the stableman in surprise. "Could the nut have been removed then without the driver knowing it? "he asked.

;'Yes, but it wasn't necessarily removed. It may have been started. You get up on the seat and sit back indiffer-

20 AN EXPLANA TION S UG GESTED.

ently, as a driver would be likely to sit. Just try it. I want you to be satisfied."

Paul climbed to the driver's seat on the coupe, and the stableman leaned over the wheel.

" You see," said the latter, "unless you bent over and looked down sharply you wouldn't make out what I was up to, and not having any reason to suspect a trick, you'd likely sit still; more likely than not, if you was an ordi- nary driver, you'd look the other way most of the time; and — but I don't need to talk any longer for here is the nut!" and he held up a small wrench in which was the nut of the wheel by which he was standing.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Paul, smiling, in spite of his anxiety, at the dexterous way in which the stableman had proved that the trick might have been done. " What sort of man was this, Mike, who talked to you?"

"I dunuo, sir. Medium sized, young, I should say."

"Would you know him again?"

"I would that!"

"By the way, did you see anybody call at the house while you were waiting?"

"Yes, a gentleman went in. I heard him ask for Mr. Strobel, and he came out again inside of five minutes."

"What was he like and where did he go?"

"I couldn't tell you what he was like. I paid no atten- tion to him. He went away toward Somerset Street. The fellow at the wheel was talking to me as he went along."

This was all the information of value that Paul could obtain, although he asked many more questions. He found Ralph waiting for him in Ivan's room, and Mrs. White was there, overcome with anxiety on account of the continued absence of her daughter.

"I think," said Ralph when he had heard his friend's re- port, "that we'd better speak of this at police headquar- ters."

"Are you going to say anything about Lizzie?" asked Mrs. White.

AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. 21

'Certainly not, unless you wish it. She will doubtless come in before evening."

"I don't know," murmured the landlady, despairingly; "she didn't say a word about going out, and I'm dread- fully afraid! I can't find her little traveling bag "

She stopped suddenly as Paul wheeled about and glanced at her with a startled glance. There was a mo- ment of silence, and then the Russian said quietly : "I will come back early in the evening, Mrs. White, and if your daughter has not appeared, I'll help you to make in- quiries. We must look after Strobel now."

The young men reported the circumstances at police headquarters and then went to Roxbury. It was five o'clock when they arrived at Mr. Pembroke's house, and they cherished a hope that some word from Ivan, if not Ivan himself, would be found there. They were disap- pointed. Louise Pembroke told them that nothing had oc- curred except that Clara had succumbed to the shock and strain, and was under the care of a physician.

"About an hour ago she broka down and cried, "said Louise, "and the physician said it was the best thing that could have happened to her. He would have been afraid to have Ivan return before that. Now she is not in any immediate danger."

"Are you going to tell her what we have done'?' asked Ralph.

"Yes. I'll do so now."

Louise found her cousin calm and hopeful.

"Ralph has come back," said Clara. "I heard the bell, and knew it must be he. Well?"

"Ralph says, dear," replied Louise, "that Ivan started for the church in a carriage, and that there was a break- down on the way that appears to have been caused by a trick. He then took another carriage, and after that they do not know what became of him."

"Lou, " said the sufferer, "I suppose people would ex- pect that I should feel humiliation most of all, but I don't, and if I did I should no longer feel it now that I know

22 AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED.

Ivan started for the church. Don't you see? He meant to come, of course ! Something dreadful has happened to him — " Her eyes filled with tears, and she paused a moment before continuing: "There must be more details, of course, but I am not well enough yet to hear them. Ask Ralph and Paul to come to-morow morning, will you, please? I must talk with them."

"I will," replied Louise; "Ivan may come before that."

Ralph went to his home immediately after leaving Mr. Pembroke's, but Paul, who had no other home than a furnished room in a lodging house, returned according to his promise to see Mrs. White. He felt that there might be a chance that the daughter, Lizzie, could throw some light on Ivan's movements, but he had no doubt whatever that she herself had returned. He reached the house just as a postman was leaving it. Mrs, White stood in the hall, the door remaining opeD, nervously opening a letter. When she had read it she screamed, and would have fallen to the floor had not Paul sprung forward to catch her. She recovered in a moment sufficiently to sob:

"I'm so glad you've come. Lizzie has gone! Read what she says."

Paul took the letter which she tremblingly handed him and read:

"DEAR MOTHER: I am going away and shall not come back for a long time. Do not be anxious, and do not try to find me. You ate not to blame for anything, and I cannot now tell you why I go. Some time I may do so, and I may write to you. I don't know yet. Do not think unkindly of me. You will know some time that it is best. I love you and "

Two words here had been laboriously scratched out. Then came the signature, "Lizzie." Paul made out the erased words to be "I love."

In spite of himself a dreadful fear came over him, a fear of something more painful for all of Ivan's friends to bear than an accident, no matter how serious.

AN IMPERFECT VISION. 23

CHAPTER III.

AN IMPERFECT VISION.

Ivan Strobel had been a lodger in Mrs. White's house for more than two years. During the greater part of that period he had been the only lodger, and from the begin- ning his relations with his landladjr had been more as if he were a friend of the family than merely a tenant. His evenings were not infrequently spent in Mrs. White's sit- ting-room, where his strongly domestic nature found some comfort in reading aloud to the old lady and her daughter, or in playing cards, or in telling them stories of European life. Sometimes his friends would call, and find him there instead of in his own room, and more than once he had been the target for good-humored chaffing relative to his supposed fondness for the landlady's daughter.

On such occasions Strobel laughed lightly, as if it were out of the question that anybody should seriously harbor a supposition that he was in love with Lizzie. That was in the comparatively early days of his residence there ; and one afternoon, about a year before his eventful wedding morning, Ralph Harmon and Paul Palovna called together and found him in his own quarters, serving Russian tea to Mrs. White and her daughter. He was evidently delighted to see his friends, and he promptly set glasses of the fra- grant, hot beverage before them. Mrs. White was enthusi- astic in her praise of the tea, as well she might be, for Russians are past-masters in the art of tea-brewing, and Ivan was one of the most skillful ; and she slyly intimated that the woman who would have the first place in his future household would do well to place him in charge of the kitchen.

Ivan smiled and blushed as if pleased at the allusion,

24 AN IMPERFECT VISION.

and while his friends commended the idea with nois.y laughter, Miss Lizzie sat silent, sipping her tea with down- cast eyes. Shortly afterward the ladies withdrew, and Palovna immediately began to tease Strobel about Lizzie.

"On my word, Ivan," he cried, "you begin very badly. If you show her what a fine hand you have for kitchen- work, you'll never have any time to yourself after you're married. It's a fine thing to serve tea to your friends when you're a bachelor, but fancy a man setting the ket- tle to boil for his wife! Great Scott! what a picture!"

Both visitors laughed heartily, but Strobel, with a grave smile, held up one hand deprecatingly.

"I don't mind your raillery in the least," he said, "but it does injustice to the young lady who is the innocent subject of it rather than myself. I'm glad you came in as you did, for I have something to tell you, and, in fact, it was to tell Mrs. White and Lizzie the same thing that I in- vited them to take tea with me. I am engaged to Miss Hilman."

"I'm mighty glad to hear it, and I congratulate you," exclaimed Ralph, jumping up and grasping Ivan by the hand.

"And I, too," said Paul, not less sincerely; "pardon my joking. I hadn't suspected that the wind blew from that direction. When is it to be?"

Then Strobel told them about his plans, and from that day until this minute, when Paul stood by the weeping landlady, with her daughter's incoherent letter in his hand, he had never associated Ivan and Lizzie in any other way than as ordinary friends. When, earlier in the afternoon, Mrs. White had said something that seemed to suggest the possibility that they had gone away together, Paul's indignation had been aroused, and it was with an effort that he had mastered his tongue, which fairly burned to deny such an outrageous assumption. He had dismissed the thought later, with the conviction that Mrs. WThite could not have realized the true significance of her words.

AN IMPERFECT VISION. 25

Now, utterly at a loss to account for his friends' ab- sence, be was compelled to face any suggestion that arose and make the best of it.

"There is at least some comfort in this, Mrs. White," he said, unsteadily; "you know that your daughter is alive, and she says she may write to you. She would not have written this had she meant to hide herself completely from you."

The mother's anguish was not to be tempered with this argument. The poignant fact remained that her daughter had gone away, deserted her home, and neglected delib- erately to take her mother into her confidence.

"How could she?" moaned Mrs. White; "why, oh, why has she done this?"

Paul had hard questions to ask, hard for him as well as for her.

"Mrs. White," he said, "you have shown me Lizzie's letter; will you let me help you if "I can?"

"Yes, yes! "she answered eagerly, raising her tearful eyes. The very proffer of sympathy and assistance helped to restore her to some degree of composure," and she opened the door to the sitting-ioom. "I forgot where we were, " she said apologetically; "please come in and sit down."

Paul complied, and, still with the letter in his hand, be- gan: "I shall have to ask questions that would be imper- tinent if you had not said that I might try to help you. Do you — was Lizzie engaged?"

"Oh, no!" replied Mrs. White, with a little gasp; "what made you think so?"

"I don't think so, and what I really tried to ask was whether she were in love with anybody?"

Mrs. White looked doubtfully at him. Her eyes were dry, now, and she toyed nervously with her apron.

"My daughter didn't tell me she was going away," she answered slowly after a minute; "if she wouldn't tell me that, how should you expect that she would speak to me of her love — if she did love anybody?"

26 AN IMPERFECT VISION.

Paul was somewhat nettled at this apparent effort to juggle with his question. The situation seemed to him too serious to admit of anything but the most complete frank- ness.

"I don't ask how you know, or why you don't, Mrs. White," he said as gently as he could; "I simply asked for a statement of fact."

The landlady looked down at the floor, evidently trying to frame an answer. Paul would have dropped the matter right there, disgusted at her reticence if not her indirec- tion, had he not been determined to learn everything pos- sible that might throw light upon the fate of his friends. So he began on another tack.

"Weren't you invited to Strobel's wedding, Mrs. White?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied promptly, not suspecting the ulti- mate aim of the question; "both of us received invita- tions."

"Why didn't you go?"

"Lizzie didn't want to go. She said weddings always made her feel solemn, and I didn't want to go without her."

"Wasn't there a deeper reason, Mrs. White, for your daughter's reluctance to go to Ivan Strobel's wedding?"

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Palovna," said the landlady, glancing at him and averting her eyes.

Paul wanted to tell her that she was trying to dodge him, but he controlled himself and said:

"I mean that in my opinion your daughter was hope- lessly in love with Ivan."

This statement did not provoke the storm that Paul had expected. Mrs. White's reserve had prepared him for an outburst of denials, indignant tears and the like, but the old lady sat very still, her hands clasped upon her lap, and after a little silence she spoke dreamily :

"Lizzie never told me, but I guessed as much long ago, poor, dear girl!"

Paul's heart sank as he felt his fears growing to con vie.

AN IMPERFECT VISION. 27

tion that the flight of Lizzie White was closely connected with the disappearance of Ivan Strobel. He was not dis- loyal to his friend even in his thoughts; he kept insisting to himself that Ivan was not the man to play all his friends double, but even as he rebelled against this possible ex- planation of the matter, reason interposed its stern voice to say that if, after all, Strobel had discovered that he loved Lizzie and not Clara, this was the probable course he would take to avoid facing the comments and criticisms of his friends; and although he repelled the explanation with all his will, he nevertheless felt a dreadful sense of doubt.

"Mrs. White," he said gravely, "have you any reason to think th.it Strobel and your daughter went away to- gether?"

The landlady started as if she had been shot.

"Of course not!" she cried; "how could you think such

a thing? Why should you insult my poor child " and

she broke down and sobbed bitterly.

Palovna was miserable. He saw that he had utterly misinterpreted Mrs. White's reluctance in answering his questions ; that, far from suspecting that Lizzie's de- parture might be an elopement with Ivan, she had in- stinctively tried to guard her daughter's secret.

"lam exceedingly sorry that I have hurt you," said Paul, contritely, "I don't think, cannot think that they have gone together; but, you see, I am in such a maze of anxiety about Strobel, everything is so strange and uncer- tain, that I — I hardly knew what I said."

He paused, and Mrs. White, still sobbing, uttered some words of which the only one he understood was "cruel, " and he promptly accepted it as applied to himself.

"I can only repeat that I am sorry," he said. "Here is your letter. I fear I can be of no help to you unless you want me to take some message for you."

"No — you cannot do anything now — I know you didn't mean it. Please come again to-morrow — when I can think — please, Mr. Palovna."

28 AN IMPERFECT VISION.

So Paul left the house, wondering whether Mrs. White felt any unhappier than himself.

He turned into Pemberton Square, and went as far as the door to police headquarters, halted abruptly and turned away. He could not be the one to fasten a suspi- cion of such a character upon his missing friend. If it were true that he had eloped, that ugly fact would be es- tablished soon enough without his giving any hints to the police detectives who were assigned to hunt for Ivan.

The doctor had ordered Clara Hilman to bed, and under the first prostration of the blow she had willingly obeyed; but as evening came on and her mind cleared, she felt stronger, and at supper time ghe arose and dressed. She did not go down to the dining-room, and Louise brought delicacies to her chamber. She wished that Ralph and Paul would return, for she felt that she could talk with them now, and she longed intensely for any word, how- ever insignificant, concerning her lover's movements. Louise sat with her, making well-intended efforts to dis- tract her attention from the subject that was so terribly engrossing, and offering the comfort of hopeful assur- ances when it was evident that Clara could think of nothing else.

The fact was that Louise disturbed Clara. Her thoughts were fixed in their own channel, and so obstinately clung there that it grew wearisome to attend to the interrup- tions that Louise was constantly making. So Clara said at last:

"I think, dear, if you will forgive me, I would like to be alone a little while. I will call if I want anything."

"To be sure, Clara," responded Louise, rising at once and putting her arms affectionately around her cousin ; "I will go to my own room, and will come the minute you need me. Shall I get you anything to read?"

"No, I cannot do anything but think, and I must think. Don't be alarmed. I am not going to let myself become ill."

There was a faint, sweet smile upon her sad lips as she

AN IMPERFECT VISION. 29

spolie, and, left to herself, she sat leaning slightly for- ward, her chin upon one hand, the other clinched upon her lap, gazing intently at the wall which she saw not. In its place was the carriage in front of Mrs. White's house, and as she watched it she saw the house door open and Ivan, her Ivan, come forth. She saw him turn to say good-by to the kind-hearted landlady, saw the happy smile upon his face, saw him enter the carriage, saw it start slowly away.

This much of h^r lover's wedding journey was as clearly before her as if it were now occurring, and she were at a window in the house across the way from Mrs. White's in Ashburton Place. Her nerves strained to their utmost tension, she tried to follow the carriage. She could see that it turned into Somerset Street, but when it seemed to be at Beacon sl\e could not tell which way it went. That it was still moving was apparent, but there was a confusion of vehicles and persons, streets and buildings, there was a pause — somewhere — was Ivan getting out? Was that he taking another carriage? Oh ! why was not Paul here to tell her just what happened at this point, wherever it was? Why had she not heard his report when he was there to make it?

Suddenly the confusion gave way, and the familiar wall was before her, but still she saw it not. Now she was lis- tening. Did she hear her lover's name? Was it spoken in anger? It must be! it must be! They were speaking of him; who were they? In this house? where else if she heard it? Could it be that she had heard nothing? To her ear there was no tangible sound save the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Clara arose and crossed the room, staggering with weakness, and placed her hand upon the door. One instant she waited as if in doubt, and then she opened it very softly. Yes ! there were voices below ; they were in the library ; that was her uncle speaking. Had she a right to listen? She stole to the head of the stairs and looked down. The library door was closed. The voice was an unintelligible murmur, nothing more.

30 AN IMPERFECT VISION.

Down the stairs she crept and came to the library door.

"Are you money-mad?" It was her uncle who spoke. "Don't you know that it hasn't come, that such a thing can't bo effected in a moment?"

"And I tell you, Mat Pembroke," said a harsh voice, "that you've got "

The voice suddenly stopped, and the speaker, the infirm old man who had arrived late at the church while the wedding party was waiting in the vestibule, half rose from his big chair and pointed with a bony, trembling hand over Mr. Pembroke's shoulder.

Mr. Pembroke turned about and saw Clara Hilman with wide-open eyes and pale face standing just within the doorway.

"Forgive me, uncle," she said in a voice scarce above a whisper; "I thought you were speaking of Ivan, and I — I came down to say that I am going to find him."

She swayed slightly as she finished, and Mr. Pembroke ran forward and took her in his arms.

CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 31

CHAPTER IV.

CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS.

Clara had not fainted in her uncle's arms, but she nestled against him quivering and sobbing; and again it was fortunate for her that the excited, pent-up forces of her brain had broken through in a flood of tears.

"You see, Dexter!" cried Mr. Pembroke in broken ac- cents, "how my poor girl suffers. There, there, Clara, better get back to your bed and try to sleep. I thought Louise was looking after you."

"She has been with me," replied Clara, "but I sent her away. I wanted to think. Has nothing been heard from Ivan?"

"Nothing yet, my dear. You shall know it as soon as we do even if it comes at three in the morning."

Attracted by her cousin's voice, Louise appeared at this moment and led Clara upstairs, scolding her gently for having left her room. Clara was greatly subdued, and urged no longer to be left alone. Through the rest of the evening she sat quietly listening to Louise, and feeling no return of that tensity of the nerves that had preceded and accompanied her waking dream.

In the morning she was better, stronger in every way. She met her uncle and cousin at breakfast, and although she was very quiet she seemed more like her natural self than they had expected. Every newspaper had something to say about the disppearance of Ivan Strobel, and the re- porters, apparently, had interviewed everybody directly in- terested in him except the unhappy bride herself. The newspapers were in a pile by her uncle's plate when she surprised him by entering the room and taking her place at the table.

32 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS.

"I'd like to see the papers, uncle, " she said after re- sponding to his greetings.

Mr. Pembroke glanced nervously at his Daughter, and laid his hand irresolutely on the pile.

"I am afraid you won't find anything of comfort in them, my dear,'* he said.

"No matter," she replied, "I don't expect to. Don't try to keep them from me. I shall get them later if I do not read them now."

Mr. Pembroke passed them all to her except one which he opened and pretended to read himself. He had already been through it, and he did not intend, if he could help it, that she should see it.

Clara intently read the account of the interrupted wed- ding in the first paper she took up, pausing only once to exclaim, "Then the reporters were here last evening!"

"Yes," said Mr. Pembroke, "they were coming and go- ing until long after midnight."

"I almost wish I could have seen some of them," mur- mured Clara as she continued to read. The report told with fair accuracy about the break-down at Park and Tremont Streets and the explanation of it given by the stableman. Mrs. White was quoted, and as much as the reporter could imagine was made of the visit to Strobel by the mysterious stranger. Then there were interviews with the missing nam's employers, State Street bankers, and the highly gratifying intelligence was set forth that there was no reason to suppose that Strobel had tampered with tho funds or in any way betrayed his trust. Clara blushed with indignation as she read that the books would be ex- amined in the morning, with a view to discovering whether Strobel had been guilty of any irregularities.

"The idea that Ivan should be suspected of dishonesty!" exclaimed Clara, laying the paper down and taking up another.

"People will think anything and everything," said her uncle, "and you must be prepared for the worst insinua- tions and speculations."

CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 33

Clara read the next account in silence. It was much longer than the first, and a great deal of attention and im- agination had been devoted to the romantic aspect of the situation. Clara was described as utterly prostrated by the blow, dangerously ill, refusing to see her most intimate friends; and the intended union of the beautiful orphan with the Russian exile was dwelt upon with appropriate grace and picturesqueness. She blushed for herself this time and laid the paper down impatiently.

"I shall show them," she said, "if they pay any further attention to the affair, that I am not prostrated by the blow, hard as it is."

"What do you mean, Clara?" asked Mr. Pembroke and Louise together.

"Just what I said last evening, uncle. I am going to find Ivan."

"Why! dear, what can you do?" cried Louise, pity- ingly.

"Do? I don't know yet what the details will be, but I can search for him. What better, what else could I do? If we had been married, and Ivan had disappeared, would it not be my duty as well as my inclination to turn the world upside down to find him? Should it make any dif- ference just because the formal word had not been spoken that was to make us husband and wife?"

Her voice trembled a little at the end of this brief speech, and her eyes were moist, but she took up a third paper resolutely and began to read. She had debated her situation thoroughly in the long hours of the previous day and evening, and her determination to devote herself to the search for her lover was not the effect of a tempo rary hallucination. Her uncle and cousin said nothing for the present either to dissuade or encourage her, Louise, at least, feeling that in due time Clara would see the futility of attempting anything on her own account as long as ex- perienced detectives were in the field. Mr. Pembroke left the room for a moment, and when he returned the paper he had been reading was folded and hidden in his pocket.

34 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS.

There was still another before Clara, and when she had read it she pushed them all away, saying:

"They're as much alike as if the same man had written them all."

Mr. Pembroke was relieved that she did not notice that one of the morning papers was not included in the lot she had read.

Hardly had they finished breakast when the bell rang, and a reporter for an evening paper inquired for news of Mr. Strobel and Miss Hilman's health. Mr. Pembroke frowned with annoyance, but Clara was for seeing the young man.

"I don't want to be pictured as a useless, waiting, tear- drenched weakling!" she cried when uncle and cousin remonstrated. "Publicity? notoriety? what could be wors« than the notoriety I have already acquired? Let me see him, please, so that he may have no excuse for describ- ing me as a broken-down, useless incumbrance. "

"I will speak to him first," said Mr. Pembroke, hastily. 44 Wait here a minute. I'll send for you when 1 have heard what it is he wants."

So Clara and Louise remained at the breakfast table, and a few minutes later Mr. Pembroke opened the door and said with an assumption of cheerfulness:

4' There! you see, sir, the young lady is bearing her trouble more bravely than the morning papers announced. This is Miss Hilman, Mr. Shaughnessy, and my daughter, Louise."

Mr. Shaughnessy, thus introduced, entered the room bowing with old-fashioned extravagance. His head was bald as an egg, and his face was three-fourths concealed by a grizzly beard. The 4 'young man" could no longer look forward to his sixtieth birthday. He wore gold- bowed eyeglasses, and in one hand he held hat and note- book and in the other a stub of a pencil.

'4Char-r med, ladies," he said, "to see you looking so fine upon this gr-rievous occasion. May I ask, Miss Hil- man, how you passed the night?"

CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 35

What with surprise at her uncle's maneuver in bring- ing the reporter to the breakfast room, and amusement at the courtly yet business-like manners of the "young man," Clara could not have repressed a smile if she had tried ; and before she could relpy, Mr. Shaughnessy had whipped his note-book to the top of his hat and written the significant memonic, "smile."

"I slept quite as usual, thank you," replied Clara.

"I am delighted to hear it," said Shaughnessy; "health, Miss Hilman, is the greatest pr-rop in time of trouble. Have you any obser-rvation to make upon Mr. Strobel's absence? Any theor-ry to account for it?"

"No theory, Mr. Shaughnessy, though I hope to have one some time later in the day. I should like to have you tell your readers that I have absolute faith in Mr. Strobel, and that I expect any theory as to his disappearance to accord with honorable conduct on his part."

"Yes, yes," said the reporter, scribbling away for dear life, that he might not lose a word of this important utter- ance. "Do I understand you to say that you expect to have news of your—Mr. Strobel before the day is over?"

"I shall devote all my time to searching for him."

"Clara!" exclaimd Louise, while Mr. Pembroke turned away with a despairing shrug.

Shaughnessy looked doubtingly at Mr. Pembroke, and then said:

"May I have the honor of calling on you later, then?"

"I shall be glad at any time," replied Clara, "to give you any information in my power."

Shaughnessy made a note.

"I hope you will pardon me seeming imper-rtinence, Miss Hilman," he continued, "but me city editor com- manded me to obtain photographs of yourself and Mr. Strobel."

Louise sighed and looked genuinely alarmed ; but Clara thought a moment, and answered that she would loan the reporter pictures if he would be sure to return them unin- jured.

36 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS.

"I shall be sure to do so, " he answered, "and I commend your decision. It saves me a lot of trouble, for, of course, I must obey me city editor ; he's a tyrant. Miss Hilman, and if you did not give me the pictures, I should have to get them elsewhere."

Clara smiled as she left the room to get the photographs, and when she had given them to Shaughnessy he took his departure, promising to call again.

"How could you give him the pictures, Clara?" asked Louise reproachfully.

"Mine will do no harm," answered Clara, quietly; "didn't you hear him say he was bound to get it anyway? Moreover, it may help in discovering Ivan, if only they will print a good likeness of him."

Clara was right in one respect at least. Nearly every evening paper published pictures of herself and Ivan, and nobody at the Pembroke house could have told where the originals were obtained.

"Now I must keep my word and begin the search," said Clara after the reporter had gone.

" You're not going to leave the house, I hope?" exclaimed her uncle.

"Certainly, uncle," she replied; "I feel quite well, and I will not overtax myself. I can stand anything better than staying idle here."

"1 am strongly disposed to forbid you," said Mr. Pem- broke, anxiously; "you are sure to have a most disagreea- ble and painful experience."

"Please don't go!" cried Louise, who had read the paper that Mr. Pembroke had concealed.

"I am sorry to displease you both, " returned Clara, "but if I am forbidden to go I shall have to disobay."

"Th«n Louise must go with you." said her uncle.

"I should like to have her. Will vou, Lou, dear?"

Louise was only too anxious to accompany her cousin, and accordingly they left the house together just in time to escape a squad of reporters representing the other even- ing papers. Clara had arranged her programme the night

CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. 37

before, and left word at the house for Ralph and Paul, should they come in her absence, to go to Ivan's room. Mrs:- White had seen Clara on the few occasions when Mr. Strobel had served afternoon tea to his intended and other friends, ard she fell into a great flurry o'f agitation when she recognized her at the door.

"Come in, "she stammered as she led the way; "of course I am glad to see you, for I am certain you cannot believe it."

Louise tried to check the landlady from making the in- evitable revelation, but Clara laid one hand on her cousin's arm and asked :

"Believe what, Mrs. White?'"

"Why, what's in the paper," replied the landlady; "you've read the papers, I suppose? I presumed that was why you came."

"I read the papers," said Clara, "and I came to inquire about Ivan. Do you refer to the suggested irregularities in his accounts? Of course I do not believe anything of that kind."

"Dear, no! I didn't suppose you did. I meant about my daughter Lizzie."

"Your daughter!" exclaimed Clara in a low voice, while Louisa hid her face in her hands "What do you mean? Let me see the paper."

More agitated than ever, Mrs. White produced a copy of the paper that Mr. Pembroke had withheld from his niece.

"I must have overlooked this," said Clara, wonderingly, as she saw that the account differed in style from those she had read. Ihe reporter of his paper, sharper than his rivals, had somehow discovered that Lizzie White hac? left her home, anc he set forth the circumstances with every delicate turn that language would allow to suggest a con- nection between her flight and Ivan's disappearance.

"It is shrewdly suspected by the friends of Strobel," so the story ran, "that as the time of his marriage ap- proached, he found his fancy for Miss White stronger than

38 CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS.

his love for Miss Hilinan, and that he cho e elopement with the former as less dishonorable than marriage with the latter."

The writer then proceeded to an elaborate explanation of how Strobel might himself have arranged the wheel of his coupe so that it would fall off, and how he mijrht then, by previous understanding with the second cabman, who was also conveniently missing, have been driven to the Park Square railroad station, where he waited for Miss White. It was entirely possible that they rrrght have taken the one o'clock train for New York, if not the noon train.

Clara was very pale when she laid the paper down, but her faith in Ivan was not so much as touched by doubt.

"It's an outrage,'' she said quietly.

"I knew you wouldn't believe it!" exclaimed Mrs.

White. "Believe it! of course it isn't true! It's not possible!"

There was a ring at the door just then, and Mrs. White excused herself to answer it.

She opened upon Ivan's mysterious visitor, Alexander Poubalov.

THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 39

CHAPTER V.

THE AGENT OF THE CZAR.

"Good-morning," said Poubalov, gutturally; "this is Madame White, I believe?"

"Yes, sir," replied the landlady, impressed at once by the stranger's deferential manner, and believing that through him the mystery would be cleared away; "won't you come in?"

"Thank you, yes. I have called to inquire for my friend Strobel."

"You are not the first, sir," said Mrs. White, opening the door to the sitting-room. "There are two here now who will be glad to see you. Miss Hilman, this is the gen- tleman who called on Mr. Strobel yesterday morning. Miss Hilman was to have married him, you know, and this is Miss Pembroke," and having thus awkwardlv in- itiated a new scene, Mrs. White took refuge in the near- est chair.

Poubalov was as near to showing surprise as he ever permitted himself to come, and Clara, rising impulsively, went directly to him and said :

"Then you can tell me something about Mr. Strobel, can you not?"

"I can tell you nothing," he answered gravely; "I came for information myself."

Clara looked into his eyes searchingly, and went back to her chair feeling that her greatest hope had been dashed to the ground.

"I feel the awkwardness of my position, ladies, "con- tinued Poubalov (I make no attempt to suggest his dia- lect, which was at times almost unintelligible, as there was nothing of a humorous or trivial character in his con-

40 THE AGENT OF THE CZAR.

versation). "Every newspaper makes me out as a possible foe to Mr. Strobel, a mysterious ogre going about seeking to destoy young men, and perhaps I should not blame anybody for supposing that I might have been concerned in preventing Mr. Strobel's marriage, but I assure you that I was not. I did not know of his intentions until yes- terday morning, when he told me about it himself. I am as much surprised as anybody to read of his disappear-

ance. '

Poubalov paused and with marked deliberation took out his card case.

"It was but natural," said Clara, tremulously, "that we should hope that you could throw some light on his movements, for knowing nothing except that somebody had called on him unexpectedly, we could not fail to at- tribute something significant to the visit."

"Especially," put in Mrs. White, "as the young men and I hunted the house over for your card and couldn't find it."

"All very natural," responded Poubalov, imperturba- bly, "and it was a circumstance of the utmost triviality in itself that lent color to my mysterious coming and go- ing. You remember, Mrs. White, do you not, that you took my card to Mr. Strobel?"

"Yes, indeed, and he — I don't want to give offense — he didn't seem particularly pleased to see it."

"So you told the newspaper men. I am not in the least offended. Here is the card you took to him. I asked Mr. Strobel where I might call upon him after his wedding tour, and he wrote that address upon my own card. Of course I took it away with me." He handed the card to Clara, adding: "I want you to see that I am concealing nothing, and if my voluntary return to this house did not signify anything, your suspicions should certainly be re- lieved by seeing that Strobel himself made a semi-appoint- ment with me at his future home."

"I hope, Mr. Poubalov," snid Clara, with her eyes upon the card, "that you will forgive us for cherishing any un-

THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 41

just suspicions. At the worst, they were vague, and every- thing is so confusing."

"I feel that there is nothing to forgive," began Pouba- lov, graciously, when Mrs. White interrupted, her mind naturally intent upon her own trouble:

"And such horrid things as they say, too! You said you had read the papers?"

"Yes, all of them."

"Did you read about my daughter?" and the distressed mother rose, and, faking the newspaper from Clara's lap, thrust it into his hands. Without looking at it, Poubalov answered:

"I read it."

"And what do you think of it?" cried Mrs. White, stem- ming a fresh flood of tears.

Poubalov 's brows contracted slightly as a sign that he disapproved forcing this question forward at the time, and with a grave glance at Clara he replied :

"I do not think. I watch, ask questions, and listen."

Clara hardly knew whether to be encouraged or de- pressed by this answer. Unless this man were an intimate friend of Ivan, it was perhaps not to be expected that he should see the folly of supposing for an instant that the missing man had eloped with Lizzie White.

"Mr. Poubalov," she said, "the reports in the news- papers do not throw the least light on this matter. I have no criticism to make on their statements of fact, but their conjectures of every kind are idle. They do not even dis- turb me."

Poubalov bowed as if to signify that he heard and un- derstood.

"The cause of his disappearance, " she continued after a moment, "it is yet to be found. The newspapers have not even hinted at it."

"You have an idea, then, "he said, "as to the correct explanation?"

"No, not one," she answered; 'I can only think of accident; but had there been any accident so serious as

42 THE AGENT OF THE CZAR.

to render him unconscious and helpless, the police would have discovered it and reported it by this time, would they not?"

"They would if your police are nearly as efficient as those of European cities," said Poubalov, "and I have no doubt they are so to the extent of such emergencies as this case presents."

"Then, don't you see, the whole mystery is confined to two general solutions; either Mr. Strobel was seized by enemies and carried away ; or he had some powerful rea- son for absenting himself, and disappeared voluntarily."

The Russian was surprised and deeply impressed by the young lady's clearness of vision, and Louise, listening with rapt attention, was simply amazed to hear her cousin reason so calmly when every word she uttered must have cost her pain.

"And which of these hypotheses," asked Poubalov, guardedly, "do you consider the more probable?"

"I have no means of judging between them," replied Clara, "for I have no fact except the disappearance to justify either one. It seems as if there must be some other theory, if I could only think what it is."

"There is nD other, "said Poubalov, "if you eliminate accident, as I think you properly do."

"Then I must consider what grounds there might be for supporting both hypotheses, As I discard as utterly worthless all the suggestions in the newspapers, I must suppose that Mr. Strobel had enemies, and that these ene mies were powerful enough either to abduct him in broad day on a crowded thoroughfare, or cause him such sudden fear that he felt obliged to go into hiding."

Again was Poubalov surprised, for he could not himself have reasoned more clearly, or have stated his conclusions more concisely; but he simply nodded gravely, expressing neither convictions or emotions. Clara wished that he would speak. She had expressed her thoughts as they came to her there in Mrs. White's sitting room. It was thinking aloud rather than a statement of previously

THE AGENT OF THE CZAE. 43

formed conclusions. Now she saw to just what end her arguments were bringing her, and she almost shrank from it. Summoning her utmost resolution she looked straight at the sombre face of the Russian and added:

"I have no knowledge of Ivan's enemies, Mr. Poubalov; isn't it possible that you can give some information on that phase of the case?"

"Yes, it is," replied Poubalov, without hesitation. Then he paused a moment before he continued: "Were not the case so serious and for you so distossing, I should feel that I must compliment you on your unusual faculty for analyzing a situation. Far from taking offense at your continued suspicion of me, I am really pleased."

"I have not said that I suspected you."

"You did not need to, Miss Hilman. Your reason tells you that Mr. Strobel was happy and confident of the fu- ture until suddenly one Poubalov appears before him like the ghost of past misfortunes and as a prophet of new

ones."

"I assure you, " interrupted Clara again, "that I did not know that you were not an intimate friend of Mr. Stro- bel's; I spoke simply of natural inferences."

"My dear young lady," said the Russian, "you were helpless in the hands of your own reason."

Clara was silent. She felt instinctively that her analysis was correct and that she was facing, if not one of Ivan's enemies, at the least a man who represented all that might be hostile to him ; and when she had endeavored to withdraw some of the force of her reasoning, he himself had held her to her conclusons and clinched them.

"It was my intention, " continued Poubalov, "to learn from Mrs. White who you were, that I might solicit the privilege of calling upon you and laying before you what is in my knowledge concerning Mr. Strobel, for I fear that I may "

He stopped abruptly and looked from one to another of the wondering ladies.

'Go on, please," exclaimed Clara, now stirred by a

44 THE AGENT OF THE CZAR.

growing agitation; "if you can give us the faintest light it would be cruel to withhold it."

'May I hope that no offense will be taken," said Pouba- lov, "if I say that I planned to tell these things to you only? I will be pleased to call at your own convenience."

"No, no!" replied Clara, rising; "I must know now. Tell me here. Mrs. White, may we step into your dining- room?"

Louise and the landlady had risen at the same moment, and Mrs. White said :

"If Miss Pembroke doesn't object, she and I will go out. Only, Mr. — sir, if you have anything to say about my daughter, I wish you would let me hear it!"

"It was not my intention to mention her, madame, " re- plied Poubalov.

Louise went to Clara's side and kissed her.

" You are so brave, dear!" she said.

Clara gave Louise a grateful look as she and Mrs. White withdrew, and turned expectantly to the Russian.

"Pray sit down, Miss Hilman," he said; "what I have to say may not be as important and useful to you as you hope* but I preferred, and with good reason, as I think you will see, to discuss the matter with you alone. It was on my tongue to say that I may have been innocently a part of the cause that sent Mr. Strobel into hiding."

"Yes," whispered Clara, eagerly; "go on!"

"Miss Hilman, I am an agent of the czar."

Poubalov paused as if he expected this announcement to disturb, or otherwise impress his listener seriously, but she merely looked straight at him, as she did when he be gan to speak.

"Strobel knew me in that capacity," he continued, "years ago when we were in Russia. Has he ever told you about his life there?"

"A little," replied Clara, very doubtful how much she ought to reveal to this man who represented the auto- cratic, relentless power that had destroyed the fortune of

t.Vio Ktrnhftl familv a.nri marlo Ivan "himsftlf a.n

THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. 4$

"You find it difficult to be frank with rne, " said Pouba- lov, "and I am not surprised, but you must remember that I am setting the example. It is quite the habit of thought- less persons to apply an opprobrious epithet to my occupa- tion and call me a spy. Well, then, I, Alexander Poubalov, spy, paid by the government of Russia, tell you who I am, and tell you that at one time Ivan Strobel had reason to fear me."

The door bell rang while Poubalov was speaking and Clara heard Mrs. White pattering through the hall to answer it.

The man at the door was known to the landlady as Strobel's tailor, an undersized, forlorn-looking man who seemed always to be struggling with secret woe. She knew that Strobel had been kind to him, and helped him in more ways than mere patronage, and she knew that poor Litizki was as grateful and loyal as a dog. It was with sincere welcome, therefore, that she greeted him, and asked him into the house.

"I only came, " saicTthe tailor, "to ask if there is any news of Mr. Strobel? The newspapers say he has disap^ paared."

"We know nothing of him here," answered Mrs. WThite; "but come in, do! There's no telling who may say the word that will put us all on the right track. Miss Hilman is here, the lady he was to marry, you know. She's talk ing with a gentleman now in the parlor. I presume she may like to see you."

"I don't know that I can give her any help, "said Litizki, following the landlady into the dining-room, "but I'll wait a few minutes, for I wanted to know something that the papers do not make clear. ' '

He came to a sudden halt as he stepped into the dining- room, where the voices of the persons in the front room were heard much more distinctly than in the hall.

"Who is that talking?" he exclaimed in an excited whisper.

46 THE AGENT OF THE CZAE.

"It's a gentleman. who called on Mr. Strobel yesterday," replied Mrs. White; "I can't think of his name."

"I should know that voice," muttered Litizki as if speaking to himself.

The rooms were separated by folding doors with glazed glass panels. On one of the panels there was a tiny spot where the opaque glaze had beon rubbed or knocked off. Litizki applied his eye to that spot, and shaded the glass with his hand, straining to get a clear view of the man whose deep voice came to him like the distant rumble of an organ.

After a moment he straightened up and turned about, his sallow, depressed features gleaming with savage interest.

"I cannot see clearly," he whispered, "but if that is Alexander Poubalov, then the whole mystery of Strobel's disappearance is cleared away!"

LITIZKI AT WORK. 47

CHAPTER VI.

LITIZKI AT WORK.

"It would have been perfectly natural," continued Pou- balov, "for Strobel to suspect me at first blush of evil intentions, and I presume he did so ; for, without inquir- ing what brought me to America and to him, he took pains to remind me that he was within the jurisdiction of the United States, and that it was not his purpose to set foot outside the limits of your country, of which I pre- sume he is by this time a citizen."

"He has taken out his first papers," replied Clara.

"And, therefore, should have felt himself secure from one who, supposing he were hostile, yet acted as the offi- cial of a foreign and a friendly government. I give you credit, Miss Hilman, of drawing a correct conclusion from that statement of relations."

Poubalov paused, and Clara responded slowly:

"It ought to mean that he had other enemies than you or

those whom you represent." "Exactly; but why do you hedge — pardon the term —

why do you set forth the conclusion with reservation? 'It

ought to mean, ' is what you said. Why not say it does

mean?"

"Because I do not know whether you are telling me the truth."

. Poubalov leaned back in his chair, and his dark face was momentarily illumined by an amused smile.

"May I light a cigarette?" he asked in a tone that seemed to say how patient he was under this continuance of suspicion that not even reason could dissipate. It was as if he had said, "With all your unexpected cleverness

48 LITIZKI AT WORK.

as a logician, Miss Hilman, you are yet a woman, and you cling desperately to woman's reasonless intuitions."

"Oh, pardon me if I am cruelly unjust," cried Clara, as clearly the woman in her quick relenting as she was in following her intuitions; "have patience with me! You must know how distressed I am, and how hard it is to think clearly. Your very admission that you are a paid spy suggests deceit and trickery — I suppose I am making the matter worse."

"By no means, Miss Hilman," replied Pouhalov, hold- ing a cigarette between his fingers; "we shall come to an understanding presently, I am sure. I never take offense, not even when my loyalty to the czar is doubted; and nothing you may say will prevent me from doing what I can to clear away the mystery surrounding Mr. Strobel. "

"Please light your cigarette," said Clara; "if you wouldn't make me talk, we should get on better."

Poubalov smiled again, and when he had puffed a great cloud of fragrant smoke from his lips, he resumed:

"I will proceed as if you cherished no doubts as to my sincerity. It follows, from my analysis, that Mr. Strobel could have had no fear of harm coming to him from an official of Russia. He never had reason to fear me as an indivdual; in fact, the individuality of Alexander Pouba- lov long since disappeared in the person of the official agent. Poubalov has no enmities, no friendships; all men are hostile or friendly to him, as they are the enemies or the adherents of the czar, whom God preserve! The next step in the analysis is to suggest the nature of Mr. Strobel's present enemies. You did not tell me so, but I presume you are aware that when Mr. Strobel was younger he permitted his generous sympathies to be enlisted in what he would then have called 'the people's party' of Russia. Without going into details with which every in- telligent person is more or less familiar, I will remind you that, incidental to the so-called democratic movement in Russia, was the organization of a secret society the

L1TIZKI AT WORK. 49

avowed purpose of which was the disruption of the empire."

Poubalov paused, and puffed at his cigarette deliber- ately.

"You want me to say something," cried Clara in des- peration, "and I don't know what to say."

"Pardon me," said the spy, suavety, "a woman of your cleverness will not resent it when I tell you that you misstate your difficulty. You could say much, perhaps, but you are afraid to."

Clara's silence was an admission that Poubalov had spoken correctly, and after giving her ample time to deny his accusation, he continued :

''You are afraid — and again you will pardon plain lan- guage— that you will involve your lover in fresh difficulties. Let me point out again that, so far as his offenses against the government of the czar are concerned, they were purely political offenses, and he is therefore in a perfectly secure asylum as long as he is on American soil, whether he be simply a refugee or a naturalized citizen, "¥ou must seek for his enemies, Miss Hilman, elsewhere than among the representatives of Kussian authority."

"You give me too much credit for cleverness," said Clara, "for I cannot follow you."

"You know that the secret society to which I referred adopted the term nihilism as a definition of its principles, do you not? And you must know, even if Mr. Strobel never told you so, that the Nihilists were bound by the most awful oaths never to betray the secrets of their as- sociation."

"Do you mean to say that Mr. Strobel was a Nihilist?"

"Certainly; that was what I was driving at from the beginning. It was for that ho was compelled tu fly fruiu Russia, and that is why he cannot return to his native land. The government has done much to stamp out the curse of nihilistic propaganda, and many members of the society have fled. Some are in Switzerland, some in Eng- land, others are here, here in Boston. Far from the field

50 LITIZKI AT WORK.

of their evil machinations, they cherish still their destruc- tive ambitions as applied to Russia; and, Miss Hilman, they still keep watch on one another. It would fare ill with any Nihilist in America should he venture to betray his former associates in any way."

"I suppose I understand you now" said Clara, slowly. "You mean that I must look for Ivan's enemies among the Russian exiles who live in Boston."

"Or elsewhere in America."

"If he really w re connected with 'chem in Russia, he would be the last man to betray them. "

"Doubtless; but would they credit him with such loy- alty? May they not have imagined that, under certain circumstances, he might be induced to betray them? And may they not have conveyed such definite and fearful threats that he found it necessary to disappear?"

"Do you mean by 'certain circumstances' his intended marriage?"

"No. I may not mean anything. We shall see some day whether I do or not."

"You speak in a constant succession of riddles. Why not continue your frankness, and be strictly open with me?"

Poubalov lit a fresh cigarette, and after a long scrutiny of the ceiling, responded :

"That is not my way, Miss Hilman. I am sincerely try- ing to suggest the clew to your difficult problem." Clara took her own turn at reflection, and said at last: "If Ivan felt obliged to disappear for a time, in order to escape his enemies, he would have managed to let me know."

"It would soom so, " admitted Poubalov, rising; "and that brings you to your last alternative."

"Wait," exclaimed Clara, imperatively; "you bring me to the last alternative as if that were the end of my difficulties. Suppose it to be true that some Russian ex- iles, in a mistaken distrust of Mr. Strobel, have abducted

LITIZKI AT WOEK. 51

him. Can you not suggest how I am to proceed to prove that and to rescue him?"

"I hope to be able to do so, Miss Hilman, in a short time, a few days at most, and I assure you that I shall henceforth give my undivided attention to searching for Mr. Strobel."

Clara knitted her brows in painful perplexity.

"A woman situated as I am," she said presently, "ought to be stirred by nothing but gratitude ; but the one thing I can think to say is, why do you interest your- self so deeply in the matter?"

"Still distrustful, " said Poubalov in his deepest tones. "Miss Hilman, I might resort to sophistry and direct deceit in answering your question. I might point out that the newspapers have placed me, though not as yet by name, in a disagreeable position from which it should be my earnest desire to extricate myself. I might declare that I was moved by friendship or admiration for Mr. Strobel. But it does not please me to practice arts of trickery with you. Public notoriety I care as little for as for the fly that buzzes harmlessly about my head. I never had friendship or admiration for Mr. Strobel, and I feel neither sentiment now. Alexander Poubalov's one senti- ment is loyalty to his czar."

"You haven't answered the question."

"Because I cannot answer it without either deceit or the betrayal of my trust. But 1 shall nevertheless use 'every endeavor to find your lover. Will you care to hear from me from time to time?"

"Yes," replied Clara, after a moment's thought; "cer- tainly, yes. I do thank you for speaking to me as you have, and I wish I could trust you. I almost do trust you."

"It would be too ungracious in me, " responded Pcuba- lov, "not to wish that you could trust me, and not to hope that some time in the near future you will find that in this matter you can do so absolutely.'1

52 LITIZKI AT WOEK.

"I suppose it would be vain to ask you what you are going to do?"

"As vain as for me to ask you to tell me all I would like to know about Mr. Strobel."

"Mr. Poubalov," exclaimed Clara, earnestly, "there can be no reason why I should withhold anything from you. Your own argument proves that; and, besides, you know more about Ivan's connection with the nihilistic move- ment than I ever dreamed of. You perceive the distrust that I cannot conquer, but you believe me, do you not?"

"Implicitly, Miss Hilrnan."

"Then I assure you that, to my knowledge, Mr. Strobel has not had anything to do with nihilistic propaganda in this country for three years at least. He used to write some on Russian topics, but he abandoned that when he went into business, and — I may say, when he became acquainted with me. I think I know all his friends, all his associates, and among them all there is but one Rus- sian, a gentleman like himself."

"I am very glad to hear this," sad Poubalov; "and now I will see what I can do. I cannot act as I would in Russia, but I can still accomplish something, I think. I hope to have the honor of calling upon you soon. I leave it entirely to you to speak of our conversation as you please, but I will go out without disturbing Madame White and your friend. Au revoir, Miss Hilman."

The distinguished-looking Russian bowed and left the room and immediately afterward Clara hear the outside door close upon him.

When Litizki, the forlorn-looking tailor, mentioned Poubalov's name, both Mrs. White and Louise Pembroke exclaimed "That's it!" and both came forward as if their anxiety were about to be dissipated at one stroke.

"Who is he?" asked Mrs. White, eagerly.

"He is — "began Litizki fiercely; "no! I must not speak. Let me go out, that I may watch him. He shall lead me to Ivan Strobel. Do not tell him that I have been here, do not mention my name."

LITIZKI AT WORK. 53

"Dear me! it makes me more nervous than ever," said Mrs. White, laying a hand on Litizki's arm to restrain him. "Do you think, Mr. Litizki, that he has done any- thing to Mr. Strobel?"

"Think!" exclaimed the little tailor who seemed on fire with excitement, "it is the next thing to knowing! Not a word, remember!"

He tip-toed his way through the hall as if it were night and he were a thief, and cautiously opened the outside door. He touched his hand dramatically to his lips as he closed it behind him, leaving Mrs. White terrified and Miss Pembroke bewildered.

Litizki, even in a tumult of rage and desperation, was not a very impressive man to look at. It would have seemed that his fury could be quelled by a gentle cuff with the open hand, and that his whole being could be snuffed out with a vigorous pinch ; but if ever man was ter- ribly in earnest, he was, and a close observer might have noted the danger signals in the formation of his head and in the hang of his lips. This was a man who might be stirred to such depths that his whole shallow nature would be in commotion, when discretion would be cast off like flecks of foam from an on-rushing wave; and then let an enemy be wary, for even a slender arm, like that of the little tailor, may strike a fatal blow !

It seemed a long, long time to Litizki that Poubalov con. tinued his conversation with Miss Hilman. He dared not linger near the house lest the spy should see him from a window, or emerge suddenly from the doorway and so discover that eager eyes were directed to his movements. Litizki slunk into one doorway after another, never stay- ing long in one, lest he be warned away with sufficient outcry to alarm Poubalov, whose ear, he believed, was acutely tuned to the slightest sounds, and who found untoward significance even in the vagrant breeze.

At last the door opened, and Litizki dodged into an open hall, only to flit out again as soon as he saw Poubalov turn toward Somerset Street. Arrived there, he turned down

54 LITIZKI AT WORK.

the hill, and then Litizki ran forward to the corner around which he peered cautiously. It would not have surprised him if his face had touched that of Poubalov as he did so, for it would have seemed to him but natural that the spy should think that he was followed and should wait there for the purpose of trapping his adversary. But, no ; Poubalov was progressing calmly down the street, and at Howard he again turned to the left.

Litizki ran after, fearful of losing his man in the more crowded street, saw him cross Bulfinch into Bulfinch Place, and finally open the door of a lodging house with a latch- key.

So!" thought the tailor, noting the number of the house and turning back, "he chooses his room within a stone's throw of Ivan Strobel's, and then takes a round- about way to go from one house to the other. That is like him. Alexander Poubalov could not be direct in con- versation or action even if he were intent upon a good deed — which would be impossible."

The suggestion was so grotesquely absurd that Litizki laughed and shuddered at once.

"Now," he reflected, "shall I tell the police where to look for Ivan Strobel, or shall I consult with his lady? I will go back and see her first."

A DANGEROUS MAN. 55

CHAPTER VII.

A DANGEROUS MAN.

For some minutes after Poubalov left the house Clara sat motionless, reviewing the strange discourse of the Russian, trying to persuade herself one moment .to trust him, and the next impulsively throwing aside the theories so finely spun from his inuendoes and circumlocutions. She shuddered at the thought of Ivan in the hands of such fanatics as she knew were included in the most rabid enemies of Russian polity, and as promptly felt such a so- lution of the mystery to be impossible. Equally impossible semed the solution that premised a fear on the part of Ivan so great that he dared not let even his intended wife know of his whereabout.

Removed from the influence of Poubalov 's magnetic personality and his subtle arguments, Clara felt that it was to him rather than to the Nihilists that she must look for implacable hostility to Ivan. Yet why should Ivan, resident in and prospective citizen of the United States, fear him, an "official agent of a friendly government"? Fear? That was not like the Ivan she knew and loved ! Was it not again impossible that her lover should have been so stirred by fear of anybody or anything as to take flight and conceal his hiding-place from her?

On the other hand, how could she know what influ- ences had been suddenly applied to Ivan to make him take a seemingly indefensible if not impossible course? And what was more impossible, in any of the suggested solu- tions, than his very disappearance, which was a painful fact, although hard to realize even after nearly twenty- four hours had passed since the time set for his wedding?

56 A DANGEROUS MAN.

The dining-room door was softly opened, and Mrs. White put in her head.

"Has he gone?" she whispered.

"Yes," replied Clara, starting up as if she had been aroused from sleep. "Come in."

Louise approached her cousin solicitously.

"We have had such a fright!" she said taking Clara in her arms; "I didn't know whether to be more alarmed when we could hear his deep voice than after the sound of it had ceased altogether."

"Why should you have feared?" asked Clara; "you couldn't suppose that I was in any danger in Mrs. White's house, could you?"

"No," answered Louise, "but the air is fulll of excite- ment ; and while Mr. Poubalov was talking, another Rus_ sian came in who is friendly to Ivan. Mrs. White says he is a tailor, a very poor man whom Ivan befriended, and an exile like himself. He recognized Poubalov 's voice, and delcared positively that his presence here explained Ivan's fate. He was terribly agitated and refused to stay, say- ing that he must follow Poubalov. We couldn't tell what to make of it."

This little narration came as a new shock to Clara. She had told Poubalov that among all of Ivan's friends there was but one Russian, and she had in mind, of course, Paul Palovna. She had never heard of this tailor, and al- though it might not follow that Ivan would count among his friends a poor man whom he might have befriended, was it not a reasonable inference that this poor man was a Nihilist? and that if there were one brought to light, that there might be many others whose identity would ever re- main unknown to her? Had she not heard how the great body of the nihilistic society was made up of the poor? and this man had recognized Poubalov ! That was signifi- cant, surely; but just what inference of value she should draw from it was anything but clear.

While these thoughts and questions were chasing through her brain, Litizki and Paul Palovna arrived at

A DANGEROUS MAN. 57

the house, coming from different directions. Paul ap- proached Clara with marked constraint.

"Do not be afraid, my friend," she said, extending her hand; "I am quite strong and hopeful. I have read the papers, all of them, and they do not disturb me. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me yesterday."

"I am glad to hear you speak so bravely, " responded Paul; "you mustn't feel indebted to me, however, for Strobel is the best friend I ever had, and it would be strange indeed if I did not try to find him. I suppose it is almost unkind to ask if there is any news?"

'There is none exactly, and yet 1 have heard some things that you can advise me about better than anybody else."

"Miss Hilman," interposed Mrs. White, "this is Mr. Litizki, the man Miss Pembroke was telling you about. "

Clara, intent upon referring Poubalov's suggestions to Paul, had not seen the little tailor come in. Now she turned and confronted Litizki with mingled hope and alarm ; hope that this man, whose positive utterance had been re- ported, might give her a definite clew ; alarm lest he be one of the most irreconcilable of revolutionists, a man who would sacrifice friends and family for a cause that he imagined just. Her doubts increased as she saw the wild gleam in his small eyes, that lit up Ins sallow face and made it glow with fierce intensity. Ivan had befriended him ; must she distrust him, too?

"I am glad to see you," she said with a quick resolution to win this man, and she surprised the tailor and made him speechless for the moment by grasping his hand warmly. "You have come to tell me something about Mr. Poubalov, or Mr. Strobel, or both?"

Litizki, embarrassed and awed by this queenly young woman who looked into his eyes so searchingly and withal so graciously, cleared his throat, shifted about on his feet, and a faint tinge of red actually found its way to his sunken cheeks.

"Yes," he answered after a moment, catching his breath

58 A DANGEROUS MAN.

with a gasp and swallowing as if he took oxygen into his system by way of his stomach; "yes, Miss Hilman, about both, if you please."

He paused, excitement and embarrassment making it difficult to say anything coherently.

"Poubalov?" said Paul, whose brows had contracted ominously when he heard the name, and who took ad- vantage of the pause to ask, "What Poubalov is that?"

"Can there be more than one who would hound a poor Russian the world over?" rasped Litizki, turning upon Paul, intense excitement blazing again in his usually dull eyes; "it is none other than Alexander Poubalov, spy, informer, traitor!"

The little tailor trembled visibly as he hissed these words, and he turned to Clara as if to make certain that they should impress her deeply.

"What, in the name of all that is right, does Poubalov do here?" asked Paul.

"Do?" cried Litizki; "does he ever do anything but spy upon the poor? Ask what has he done here, and I will tell you that he has captured our Strobel, and has him bound in chains, waiting only a convenient and safe op- portunity to convey him from the country to the presence of the little father* and then, Siberia, or— " and the

*Russian familiar name for the czar, tailor drew his hand significantly across his throat.

Clara observed Paul, not the tailor, during this extravaJ gant speech. Would Palovna, an intelligent man, free from excitement, condemn and ridicule Litizki's asser- tions as wild and imaginary? No; he listened gravely and gave no sign that he discredited the tailor in the least. Noticing Clara's inquiring look, Paul said:

"We Russians, Miss Hilman, are inclined to credit alJ most any monstrosity in the way of crime, treachery and violence to men like Alexander Poubalov. To us lie stands as guilty of anything with which he is charged until he incontestably proves himself innocent.'*

A DANGEROUS MAN. 59

Clara's heart sank heavily, but she that knew that she could trust Paul.

"May I tell you something?" she asked, and he fol- lowed her into the dining-room. There she hurriedly re- peated the substance of Poubalov's discourse, laying es- pecial stress upon his warning relative to distrustful Nihilists.

"It's a splendid argument,' said Paul when she had fin- ished; "I suppose you were attracted by his very frank- ness in admitting that he is a spy? That was a character- istic move. Mind you, I never had trouble with Poubalov ; I wouldn't know him if I saw him, but I know about him. He is a very prince of spies, a past-master in the art of deceit, and many, many shrewd men have been the vic- tims of his seeming candor. You may be sure he masks some villainy beneath his frankness, for he never was known to do a disinterested act."

"He spoke as if he were here upon some mission, " sug- gested Clara.

"Certainly, but he wouldn't tell you what that mis- sion was. That it had to do with Strobel is certain. I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily, Miss Hilman, but Poubalov is a most dangerous man. It may be well for us that you have faced him, though we must necessarily have discovered his presence soon, and to see him is to suspect. We at least know where to look. Litizki is an impressionable, excitable man, but he may be right, never- theless. I am sure that you can trust him, whether or not there is anything in Poubalov's nihilistic suggestions. And as to that, I don't believe there is — not with him about. Plenty of false notions prevail about the Russian revolutionists, and it would be to Poubalov's interest to arouse dread of them in your mind. Anything to distract attention and suspicion from himself."

They returned to the front room. Litizki had recovered from his excitement, and was more like his customary, depressed self, but though he spoke quietly it was with bitter emphasis and strong conviction.

60 A DANGEROUS MAN.

"I believe," he said, "that Poubalov instigated if he did not take part in the abduction of Mr. Strobel. I am convinced that he has him now in hiding, and the ques- tion only is whether we are to inform the police or take action ourselves."

"Tho police," responded Paul, "would not procood against Poubalov on the strength of our suppositions. He would intrench himself in his official position, and insist on compliance with all forms of law ; and during the de- lay, if, indeed, he has Strobel in his power, he would spirit him away."

"So I think," said Litizki, "and as he won't dare to remove Strobel until the interest in his disappearance dies down, unless he wore openly attacked in the manner you suggest, I intend, if Miss flilman agrees, to hunt for our friend in my own way. I shall do so to-night. I must find him."

He looked inquiringly at Clara.

"I cannot say yes or no," she replied; "you are a friend of Mr. Strobel's and you will do what you think best. Only, let me know what you find."

There was a gleam of pleasure in Litizki 's eyes, fol- lowed by an expression of sullen determination as he re- sponded :

"You shall hear from me to-morrow."

"Lou, "said Clara, "I think we had better go home now. I am feeling very worn. If any of you hear the least word, I wish you would come to see me."

As she prepared to leave she took occasion to whisper to Paul :

"I do not know that I do right in encouraging Litizki. My feeling is that the more there are at work and the more various the methods, the greater is the chance of success. May I leave it to you to prevent Litizki, if pos- sible, from any act that would be indiscreet, or worse?"

"I will do what I can," said Paul; 'but he is, after all, an irresponsible agent. I am inclined to think that good will corne of his investigation, whatever he does."

A DANGEROUS MEN. 61

It was the luncheon hour when the young ladies reached home, and Mr. Pembroke had arrived before them. His face expressed painful anxiety as he greeted his niece.

"My poor child," he said, "you have heard everything, I suppose?"

"I have heard a great deal, uncle," replied Clara, "and appreciate your motives in withholding the paper from me that published the wicked rumor that Ivan had eloped, but you should have known me better. Do you suppose, uncle dear, that that rumor disturbed me? I dismiss it more lightly than anything that has been said."

"Poor child! poor child!" sighed Mr. Pembroke.

"Why do you say that?" asked Clara, sitting down wearily. "Of course, I am sorrowful; nobody can realize what I suffer; but I am confident that Ivan has done no wrong, and I cannot believe that we shall not find him. I have returned to rest, not to give up the search."

"Clara, my dear girl," said her uncle, tenderly, "you'd best give it up. You have a great sorrow to bear, but I know how brave you are. There is no occasion for fur- ther search."

"No occasion! Uncle, what do you mean?"

"The detective assigned from headquarters to make an investigation has been to see me,"

"Yes, yes! what did he say?"

"The worst possible, Clara. He is convinced that Strobol went to New York, if not with Lizzie White, then to join her there. It is the only possible explanation of his disap- pearance."

"No! no! you know nothing about it, and the detective is a fool!" cried Clara.

Mr. Pembroke was immensely surprised at this violent outbreak, when he had expected tears, prostration, the deepest grief. It occurred to him that perhaps his niece's mind had been unsettled by her trouble. She sat looking a him with blazing eyes, her face flushed, her foot nerv- ously patting the floor.

69 A DANGEROUS MAN.

"You are greatly excited, Clara, " ventured her uncle, gently.

"Tell me what the detective said!'1 retorted Clara, im- periously.

"He has found that a closed carriage, such as we know Strobel took at the corner of Park and Tr« -ots,

halted at the Park Square Station y after that time.

The passenger was aye who a: --d the de-

scription of Strobel. He paid the driver, went n sta-

tion, bought a ticket for New York, and immodm took his place in the train. It is further known that L White took a train from the same station at about t ho same hour/'

Is that all?" asked Clara, scornfully.

"My dear girl, is it not enough?"

"It is nothing, uncle, absolutely nothing. Has your de- tective seen the driver of the closed carriage?"

"I .1 n't know; I suppose so.'*

"1 n i ust see the detective then. No, I am not going now. After luncheon. 1 shall not risk failure by neglect- ing to care for myself. Uncle dear, " and she sudd< -nl y united and put her arms around the old gentleman's ;ive me, please, if I am impatient ami hasty \vith yon. I know Ivan as you do not; I know this aconsa- tinn is not true. The detective has been mistaken, and 1 shall show him so, and all the world besides."

Mr l v m broke sighed sadly.

Your loyalty, my dear, " he said, "is deserving of a better subject and a better fate,"

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 63

CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

Nothing would deter Clara from a trip to police head- quarters after luncheon, and, as in the forenoon, her Cousin Louise accompanied her. As they entered the building in Pemberton Square, they met the infirm old man, Dexter, he who had arrived late at the church, he whom Clara had interrupted in conversation with Mr. Pembroke. He bowed to the young ladies with an at- tempt at graciousness, and reached for the shapeless, soft cap that covered his head, but he only succeeded in pull- ing the visor awry, and he passed them, mumbling about the weather.

"I am afraid," said Clara, "that my trouble is making me harsh toward everybody, but that old man seems to me the most disagreeable and repulsive being I ever saw. Who is he?"

*'I only know that his name is Dexter " replied Louise; "he has some business with papa, I believe."

Clara inquired for the detective who had been assigned to the Strobel case, and after such delays as are naturally incident to strangers making their first call at the offices of the department, she was confronted by Mr. William Bowker, a commonplace-looking individual, who said:

"Well, ladies, what can I do for you?"

"I am Miss Hilman, " replied Clara.

"Ah!" and Bowker raised his brows regretfully, "I in- formed your uncle this forenoon, Miss Hilman, of what I have done and found in the matter."

"He told me about it, but I couldn't be satisfied with a report at second hand. Won't you tell me just what you told him?"

64 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

"It will be very unpleasant for you, Miss Hilman, and if Mr. Pembroke has told you the result of iny investiga- tion, that is really all there is to be said."

"I won't trouble you to repeat that a gentleman answer ing the description of Mr. Strobel alighted from a cl< carriage at the Park Square Station, shortly after the aeH- dent on Park Street and bought a ticket for New York, or that Miss White took the same train. I am willing to take, it for granted that you have traced Miss White's nv rnents correctly. I want to know what makes you so cer- tain that the gentleman who took the train ^as Mr. Stro- bel?"

Detective Bowker stared at the young lady a moment; it was his delicate way of expressing surpri&e.

"The description of the man and the time tallied with Strobel and his accident, " he answered, "to say nothing of the reasons for his running away."

"Is that all, Mr. Bowker?"

"No, it ain't; that was what we found at first. Don't

it look reasonable " and he proceeded to theorize on

the matter until Clara checked him.

"I could have heard all that from half the people in Boston, "she said, "if I had paid any attention to the rumor. I supposed professional detectives would base their reports on something better than conjecture."

Bowker shrugged his shoulders.

"What would you say," he asked with a little temper, "if an acquaintance of Strobel 's was to tell you that he saw the gentleman buy his ticket and go to the train?"

"Have you such evidence as that? If so, who is it?'

"I can't answer the question, Miss Hilman. I have no right to make public the workings of the department. I expect to get further evidence this afternoon to prove that Strobel eloped. It's by no wish of mine, you under- stand, that I tell you these disagreeable things."

"You needn't apologize, Mr. Bowker. I came for infor- mation. I understand, then, that you do not regard your investigation as finished."

65

"Well, not exactty. Of course we want to clinch it. "

"Have you seen the driver of the closed carriage?"

"No. We have no means of identifying him except rec- ognition by the man who drove the coupe. If a man should walk in here and say that he drove the closed car- riage, we'd examine him, of course, but we've been una- ble yet to find that man. The thing being in the papers, it may happen — in fact, it's quite likely— that the miss- ing driver will turn up to-day. Cabmen are usually anx- ious to please the department. I suppose the evidence of the cabman would be satisfactory, wouldn't it?"

"Quite, if I was satisfied that it was the man, and that he told the truth."

"I guess you're hard to satisfy, Miss Hilman."

"Mr. Bowker," and Clara beamed on him with a smile so sweet and radiant that he started with astonishment, "I think you are working hard and as faithfully as you know how to prove a theory which you formed early in your investigations, even before you had Lizzie White's fight to base it on. I shouldn't think you'd do that, you know. Honestly, wouldn't you rather find out the truth, even if it did upset your first theory?"

Bowker stared in undisguised discomfort,

"If you've got any facts," he said, "you'd ought to let us have them. Of course we want to find out the truth. What is it you know, or think of?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Bowker," responded Clara, rising, and still bewildering him with her lovely smiles ; "you work along in your way and I'll work in mine. When I learn that you've found anything worth considering, I may take you into my confidence ; I might even co-operate with you. Good-afternoon."

No one was more amazed at Clara's coolness that her Cousin Louise.

"I don't see how you can do it, Clara," she said when they were again in Pemberton Square.

"Do you realize," returned Clara, "what might happen if I didn't do something of this kind? Somebody must

66 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

stir everybody else up, or else the public will not only come to believe that Ivan was false, but we shall never find him. I may be making mistakes, but I don't believe that detective will be content to stop where he is. He'll look further, and the further he looks the more certainly will he find that he has been working at a wrong theory. Let's go somewhere and find a business directory."

They went to the parlor of a neighboring hotel, where for an hour Clara busied herself making a list of all the livery and hack stables in the city. Then she hired a cab, and for hours the young ladies went from one to another stable, Clara always with the same inquiry, seeking for some trace of him whom for convenience she came to call the "second driver."

There is no need to go into the details of her tedious search. It was not concluded when evening came, and she had to desist from sheer fatigue. She had found no clew that promised the discovery of the one witness who could certainly be of use to her.

From Mrs. White's Litizki went to his shop and toiled patiently and methodically for two or three hours. He hardly opened his lips during the whole time, but his brain was busy with projects. That Poubalov was respon- sible for the fate of Ivan Strobel did not admit of a shadow of doubt ; that he had concealed the young man in his lodgings was not so certain, but Litizki deemed it alto- gether probable. The spy would have plenty of money, he could have put up at a hotel; why had he not done so? Because, according to Litizki's reasoning, he had uses for a lodging to which the public conveniences of a hotel could not safely be bent. Distrustful of all men, the spy would keep his prisoner under his own charge, and in a lodging- house it would not be difficult to purchase the discreet silence of a not too scrupulous landlady concerning a mys- terious co-tenant.

The more he thought about it the more firmly the idea took possession of the tailor that Strobel was confined in the Bulfinch Place lodging-house which Poubalov had en-

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 67

tered by means of a latch-key. If any one had suggested to him the spy's arguments to the effect that as the agent of a friendly government he could not venture, if he would, to violate American law, Litizki would have laughed, and that would have been very significant of his immeasurable contempt for the argument, for it was not in the memory of his associates that the tailor had ever smiled. His nearest approach to it, in fact, was when he manifested pleasure at the idea of being countenanced in an investigation of Poubalov's doings in his own way. Re- spect American law, indeed! Then would Poubalov be other than he was, and the leopard might be expected to change his spots.

Litizki hated Poubalov with all the concentrated venom of his small nature, a nature that had known little of good in the world save in Ivan Strobel's kindness, that had felt the blows of tj'ranny and the stabs of treachery at the hands of this same spy. A desire for vengeance haa smol- dered long in his heart, and he had never expected that any breeze of fortune would fan it into living flame; and now, suddenly, it had burst forth a raging fire, and the possibility of opportunity rose before his dull eyes as the one glad hope of his wretched life. Poubalov in America ! Poubalov at his treacherous work against the one man who had inspired Litizki with confidence and stirred his affections! and he, Litizki, knew Poubalov's secret, knew where he could lay hands upon him ! Fate must have placed him there in order that Litizki's vengeance might be the more complete.

The tailor laid down his tools and bent his head upon his hands. Poubalov must be checkmated, Strobel res- cued ; and if in accomplishing this end, the spy should be — Well, what then?

Litizki put on a long coat with a high collar that he turned up about his ears, and a soft hat that he pulled down over his eyes. At the foot of the stairs that led to his shop he met Paul Palovna.

"Hello, Litizki, "exclaimed the young man, "where in

68 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

the world are you going rigged out as if it were winter?'

The grotesque little figure looked sourly up at the in- quirer and replied :

"I am going to begin my work."

"See here. Litizki," said Paul, seriously, "you mustn't do anything rash. I was just coming to see you to give you warning. Poubalov is dangerous and very clever. Don't get yourself into trouble, and don't spoil all chance of trapping him, if he has really got hold of Stro- bel, by any premature act."

The little tailor reflected.

"For myself, "he answered presently, "nothing mat- ters. I will be careful, Paul Palovna, as careful as man can be not to compromise any chances. I shall act for my- self alone. Nobody sends me, nobody influences me. If I succeed, we shall all rejoice; if I fail" — he shrugged his shoulders significantly— "I will be the only loser. I prom- ise you not to be rash, Paul Palovnft, for the sake of noble Ivan Strobel and his beautiful lady."

Then he moved away, and Palovna knew hardly whether to smile at his ludicrous make-up, or shudder at the purpose that unquestionably lurked in his thoughts.

"I hope good may come of it!" sighed Palovna.

Litizki went to Bulfinch Place, and shrinking as far as possible into his long coat, walked along on the sidewalk opposite Poubalov 's house. Yes, there the villain was, calmly reading a newspaper! One flight from the ground, front room. At the side of the room was a smaller one over the hall. Litizki knew the arrangement of the houses in that vicinity, and the blinds of that room were closed. Perhaps, though, the prison chamber would be in some more remote part of the house. Time and the night would tell.

The tailor went to the corner of Bowdoin Street, and stood there, unmindful of the curious glances of passers^ until he saw Poubalov leave the lodging-house. It was just possible that the spy had his prisoner concealed else- where, and was now going to him. Litizki followed. It oc-i

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 69

curred to him that now might be the time to get into the house on some pretext and make a search, but he dis- missed the thought as ruinous. If Strobel were there, the landlady would be paid to be watchful during Poubalov's absence. No; the night was the time when nobody would be watching, and when every corner in the house could be searched from cellar to garret.

Poubalov went to State Street, and entered the bank where Strobel had been employed. He brushed past Litizki when he emerged, but apparently did not see him. The tailor followed him from one place to another, waited under a hotel window for an hour while the spy was din- ing, saw him into a theatre and eventually back to his lodgings, where he arrived at about eleven o'clock. It was evident that he went directly to bed, for the light in his room was extinguished very shortly after he went in.

Litizki then went to a cheap restaurant, where he ap- peased his appetite and drank several cups of bad tea. It was after midnight before he left the place, and his one wish was that he had a dark lantern. To make up for his lack, he was plentifully supplied with matches.

A printer, whom Litizki knew by sight, lived in the house adjoining the one where Poubalov lodged. The tailor knew that he ordinarily arrived home at one o'clock. He was on time this night, antl as he turned into the tiny yard before the building, Litizki stepped down from the doorway.

"I'm glad you've come," he said, "I left my key in the room and I can't rouse anybody by ringing."

"No," responded the printer with a laugh, "they don't get up for anybody. How long you been living here?"

"Only a few days."

The door was opened, and both men went upstairs. The printer, with a cheery "good-night, "entered a room on the second landing. Litizki continued to the top floor, and thence through a skylight to the roof. Fortune was, in- deed, favoring him. He had supposed the skylight would be raised for the sake of ventilation. There had been

70 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

doubt whether the steps leading to it would be in place.

He cared little whether the skylight on the adjoining roof would be found open and the steps in place, or not; he would get in in any event. Both were in just the con-| dition most favorable to his project, and a moment lateri Litizki had struck a match and was peering about in an empty room on the top floor of Poubalov's lodging house.

The little tailor exulted more and more as he crept down the stairs after examining every room. Not a sleeper had been awakened, not a door had been found locked. He would search the whole house before trying the door to the hall room adjoining Poubalov's. That would be found locked. He had no doubt he should pick the lock, for he had skeleton keys in his pocket, and if not — a vig-j orous shove and he would burst it open. What cared he for details at the very end of his search?

He had come to the floor above the spy's room. Here, as before, every door was unlocked, most of the rooms empty. He had just extinguished a match preparatory to descending further, when from somewhere out of the darkness heavy hands were laid upon him and he was borne to the floor. Another instant and a hand was pressed upon his mouth and there was a dazzling flash of light from a dark lantern held over him.

Litizki saw the cruel eyes of Alexander Poubalov glar-j ing down, and then the slide of the lantern was closed again.

LITIZKI' S LESSON. 72

CHAPTER IX.

LITIZKl'S LESSON.

There had been no scuffle and almost no noise as the tailor fell to the floor, but one of the chamber doors opened, nevertheless, and a startled voice asked: "What's that?"

"Sorry you've been disturbed," said Poubalov; "a friend of mine, with a little more of a load than he could manage, has stumbled. That's all. I will look out for him."

The inquirer went back to bed grumbling, and as soon as the door closed Poubalov whispered in Eussian: "Will you keep quiet, or shall I have to quiet you?" and he re- moved his hand from Litizki's mouth.

"It's all one to me, Alexander Poubalov," muttered the tailor, and, feeling the pressure removed, he rose to his feet. Still speaking Russian, the spy remarked:

"You are so good at finding your way in the dark that I will not pull the slide of my lantern. I should dislike, for your sake, to have you recognized. Go down and enter my room."

Litizki felt for the banister, and, guided by it, walked down the flight and opened the door, as directed, into his captor's room. When Poubalov came in he closed and bolted the door, then opened the lantern and let its rays fall on Litizki from head to feet, and head again, as if he were curiously studying the make-up. He laughed softly at last and said :

"There's a chair just back of you. Sit down."

The tailor sank into it, and Poubalov lit the gas. In the general light Litizki saw that the spy was fully dressed save for his coat, and that the folding bed which was a

72 LITIZKPS LESSON.

feature of the furniture had not been let down. Poubalov noticed Litizki's glance and understood :

"No, iny friend," he said suavely, "I did not go to bed. I expected you, and sat up to receive you."

Litizki groaned. Until then he had hoped desperately that even as a prisoner he would be able to accomplish something ; now, convinced that the spy had prepared for his coming, he realized that his effort had been in vain. The awful sense of the unshakable power this man represented and wielded came over him as it did in those gloomy days in Russia when he had to choose between voluntary exile and certain banishment.

Poubalov drew a chair to a little table in the middle of the room, and sat down opposite the tailor.

"Nicholas Litizki," he said, "you have surprised and grieved me! I would not have supposed that even a resi- dence of several years in America could have made you forget that Alexander Poubalov never takes a step until lie is thoroughly prepared for it. I, who hardly know what the word emotion means, am almost hurt. Surely it must be that contact with republican institutions deadens a man's sensibilities and affects his memory."

Litizki's small eyes had been fixed upon those of his ad- versary from the beginning. They had relapsed to their customary dull expression, but they glowed faintly with new life, for, the first edge of his disappointment dulled, he recalled the two great purposes for which he had in- vaded the house: vengeance and the rescue of Ivan Stro- bel. Neither purpose might be lost, and if he must forego or postpone vengeance, he would not prejudice what means others might have at command for saving his ben- efactor.

"Poubalov," said the tailor, "1 am an American citi- zen."

"I bow to your discretion," responded the spy, "but I knew it. You think to hide behind the generous skirts of your adopted country's goddess. Good! I admit the effi- cacy of the refuge, for the accredited agent of the czar-

LITIZKPS LESSON. 73

whom God preserve, Nicholas Litizki — will do nothing in a friendly country in violation of that country's laws. But see, iny friend, what a tower of strength a proper respect for the law becomes: I not only knew you were coining, but I knew what you were coming for, and 1 need not say that I knew what way you would take. I have kept within the law, and yet 1 found out aU about you and your asso ciates before I had been in Boston — no matter how long. Poor fellow ! did you really think that Poubalov's eyes did not penetrate your flimsy disguise? I am sorry, Litizki; your patience and devotion would fit you for service in the holy cause of the czar, and it is not at all adapted to pursuing the steps of honest men."

"You do not frighten me," interposed Litizki; "I know your superlative cunning and your crooked ways. Your speech nauseates me. 'Honest men!' Bah!"

"We won't dispute over trifles, then. I simply call to your attention the fact that you unlawfully invade a dwelling-house, prowling about like a common thief and thus place yourself unreservedly in my power. Of course, Nicholas Litizki did not enter enter here to commit theft. He came to find his friend, Ivan Strobel."

"It is a lie, Alexander Poubavol! I sought him not."

"You know whether it is a lie, or not. So do I. There- fore we will not argue the matter. Well, what are you go- ing to do now that you are here?"

Litizki boiled with futile rage. He was trapped not only literally as Poubalov's prisoner, but he felt how weak he was in any contest of words with this shrewd master of deceit. He had spoken truly in telling Paul Pa- lovna that it mattered not what became of him, and al- though those words were uttered under the influence of a desire for vengeance that constant dwelling upon had turned to conviction that he would succeed, he now felt them to be as true, for he despaired, as he had been de- spairing for years, of accomplishing anything that would be worth the doing. Why had he presumed to undertake the hopeless task of outwitting Poubalov? He saw how

74 LITIZKPS LESSON.

wildly foolish had been his course, but his conviction re- mained unshaken.

"Have it so, then," he hissed; "respect for law is not in your character. You have unlawfully taken possession of IvanStrobel."

"Yes?" responded Poubalov quietly; "you are very sure of that?"

"I know it, yes; I did coine here to find him, to liber- ate, ay, to kill you if need be!"

"Indeed! the same, familiar antagonism to the author- ity of Russia, I suppose. The Russian agent is to you like the red flag to the bull. Yes, very interesting. Well, Li- tizki?"

"Alexander Poubalov!" exclaimed the tailor, rising and speaking with all his long-treasured bitterness, "you have Ivan Strobel, an American citizen, in your power; you re- strain him illegally of his liberty, with what purpose it matters not. I, as an American citizen, demand that you release him."

Poubalov looked with mock admiration at the fierce but grotesque figure before him, and said :

"Good! very good! I am not certain but that demand is good law. I shall have to think of it. When, Nicholas Litizki?"

"I cannot tolerate your smart language," returned Li- tizki; "give him up now. It will be worse for you if you fool with me. You threw me down in the dark because I was taken unawares. In the light I can make my own fight, Alexander Poubalov! Como! Ivan Strobel is in that room, behind that door, and if you have not stopped his ears as you have gagged his mouth and bound his limbs, he hears my voice now and knows it. I should be less than man should I not take even a desperate step to res- cue him, my friend, my benefactor!"

Even to the cynical spy the grotesqueness of the little tailor's figure and make-up disappeared in the exaltation up to which his emotions bore him. He took one deter- mined stride toward the door to the little hall room.

LITIZKPS LESSON. 75

"Nicholas Litizki," said Poubalov, softly.

The tailor turned, such was the compelling power of that deep voice, and for the instant his progress was checked. Poubalov had extended one arm upon the table and his hand was toying with a revolver.

"I believe you, my friend, " remarked the spy, hardly looking toward the tailor at first, but later concentrating his gleaming eyes upon him, "I believe you when you say by actions if not by words that you would die for your friend, and that you do not care what becomes of you. But you have some degree of cleverness, Litizki. We learned that years ago. Listen, then, just a moment before you lay hand upon that door. It is locked, Litizki. Before you could open it I could put a bullet through your heart. Would I not dare? What should a peaceable lodger not do to a man who stealthily enters his house by night? Who would disbelieve me if I should calmly re- port to the police that you came as a burglar, and that I shot at you in protection of property and life? Suppose, however, that I prefer to avoid a disturbance. Before you could more than wrench the knob of that door once, I could pierce your heart silently."

Poubalov rose and stood towering over Litizki, a knife glistening in his right hand.

"You know something of my resources," he continued, "and whether I would be likely to find difficulty 'in. dis- posing of your lifeless body. Why ! you have come so secretly that you and I alone know of your whereabout. We would then have another disappearance to add to the Strobel mystery, but one that would not be half as inter- esting, Litizki, not half."

"You have killed Ivan Strobel!" whispered Litizki, shrinking away.

"In that inference," said Pou«balov, contemptuously, as he laid his weapons on the table and resumed his seat, "your madness reaches its climax and you will speedily recover. You will not go to that door now. You see how useless it would be. Live, and you may yet see your

76 LITIZKPS LESSON.

friend, may yet assist in liberating him. Understand me, Nicholas Litizki: I have not come to this country for nothing. I have a mission to perform, and nothing shall prevent me from performing it, and in my own way."

4 'You will then keep Strohel a prisoner, " muttered Li- tizki, "until you have wrung from him by cruelty what you have come for?"

"I shall perform my mission. Now it would be per- fectly easy for me to remove you, for you are making yourself an obstacle, a slight one, to my plans. It pleases me better, however, that you should live, and you may yet be an assistance to me. I will show you to the street door whenever you feel ready to depart."

Litizki shot a glance full of evil at his captor, but 1*011- balov ignored it, and calmly lighted the inevitable cigar- ette.

" Very well, Alexander Poubalov," said Liti/ki after a moment, "you may let me go, but expect no gratitude from mo. I know only too well that you think to servo your foul purposes by my liberty, but, weak as I am, I .shall not rest until Sfcrobel is restored to us or his fa to made known, and even after that I shall pursue you ! You teach mo a lesson, Poubalov, a hard one, but I shall learn it."

"I hope you will. Life will be easier if you do. Must you go now? Permit me, " and with a fine pretense at courtesy he unbolted the door and accompanied Litizki to tho street door, which he also opened.

"Good-night, Nicholas Litizki," he whispered as he withdrew again into the house.

It was Litizki's purpose to go at once to the house where Paul Palovna lodged, rouse him, and tell him his experi- ence, with all the admissions that Poubalov had seemed to make, and all the inferences that were to be drawn from his remarks and innuendoes ; but as he hurried along in the cool night air he felt as if something were leaving him. He slackened his pace, halted irresolutely, went on a few steps, and at last leaned heavily against a building

L1TIZKTS LESSON. 77

and struck his hand angrily against his brow, muttering :

"Fool, fool!"

What was this sense of loss but a relief from the domi- nating influence of Poubalov's stronger personality? There, with all his desperation, even at the height of his exaltation, when he seemed to tread the border lands of heroism, he had halted at a single word from the spy. He had stood and listened to threats and sophistry, and had been moved by the one and convinced by the other.

No! he could not tell all this to Palovna, or to any other person except Strobel ; to him, if he should ever re- turn, he would make a full confession of his defeat. For the present he must keep it to himself, and if he would still do something to effect his vengeance and rescue Strobel, he must work in secret. And as he reflected that it was just this course that Poubalov undoubtedly ex- pected him to take, he groaned and slunk abashed and mortified to his lonely room.

In the early morning, without waiting to read newspa- pers, or submit to interviews from reporters, should they call again at the house, Clara and Louise set forth to fin- ish their search for the "second driver." Again they had a tedious, fruitless experience. Now and again it seemed momentarily as if they had come upon a clew to the man, but Clara's keen questions invariably brought them to the same disappointing end. By noon they had visited every livery stable in Boston.

"Don't think me unkind, Clara," ventured Louise, "but I fear we ought to give this up. I don't know that I can say just why, for I sympathize with you as deeply as ever, and, like you, I believe in Ivan; but somehow I fear."

"There are the stables in Cambridge and Somerville, " responded Clara, absently; "we haven't been there. For- give me, dear! I didn't mean to ignore what you said. We are both tired. I had meant to call at Mrs. White's before returning, but we will go home and rest, and see if fresh thinking will help us. There may be some word at home by this time."

78 LITIZKPS LESSON.

There was, indeed, some word at home. The servant reported that Detective Bowker had called and would be glad to see Miss Hilman, should she care to go downtown during this afternoon ; and there were many letters from friends who had learned of her trouble. All except one were more or less sympathetic, but in more than one there was a veiled remonstrance against her taking such a vigorous and public part in the case.

The exception was unsigned and without date. It road :

"If Miss Hilman insists on being convinced with ter own eyes that her 'lover' has been false, if she needs more proof to cause her to withdraw from the ridiculous attitude she has assumed, why doesn't she go to New York and find Lizzie White? The writer is certain that she would return fully satisfied."

COEUOBOEATIVE DETAIL. 79

CHAPTER X.

CORROBORATIVE DETAIL.

Clara had not corne sufficiently in contact with the evil side of human nature to ignore an anonymous letter. She felt all the contempt for the writer that he or she de- served, and she spurned the suggestion contained in the letter as utterly unworthy of a moment's attention. Yet the sting was there. She might ignore the letter to all ap- pearances, and yet not be able to forget it. The cruelty of the writer was what she felt, not the force of the blow.

"I cannot understand," she said, laying the letter down and taking a newspaper, "how a person can go out of his way for the sole purpose of doing an unkind thing."

"What is it, dear?" asked Louise, stopping on her way out of the room.

Clara started to show her the letter, but, overcome by a sense of repugnance for it, answered :

"Let it pass until after luncheon. We shall have a great deal to talk of then."

So Clara was left alone with the newspapers, and she read them with amazement and consternation. At the very first there was a little relief at finding no flaring headlines on the first page, for she had no enjoyment in the notoriety that the case thrust upon her. She bore it simply as one of the unavoidable features of the situa- tion. As she searched the first paper, the relief vanished, and in its place came a growing wonder. The reports of the abandoned wedding had been set forth in complete detail with every expansion that fertile brains could sug- gest, as if every city editor had said to his reporter, "We'll stand all you can write." It had been the impor- tant news feature of the day, and to Clara it had seemed

80 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL.

as if ever3r newspaper in the city had undertaken to solve the mystery. Where, then, was the long account of the second day's developments?

Tucked obscurely away in the middle of a page devoted to a miscellaneous assortment of news, she found a,t last a few paragraphs setting forth the conclusions of the de- tective bureau, that there was no financial irregularity to be attributed to Mr. Strobel, and that the missing man had undoubtedly eloped with Lizzie White. MissHilman's health was reported to be good, and it was noted that she had taken a personal hand in the investigation with every appearance of confidence in the loyalty of her be- trothed.

Clara found longer reports in the other papers, and the one that had published the first intimation of the elope- ment, continued to make it the sensation of the hour, but it was a labored effort, devoted quite as much to ex- ploiting its own enterprise in beating the other papers as to setting forth the news.

So, then, the community, of which the newspapers were the reflection, had contentedly accepted the first solution that offered, and all her work had gone for nothing, worse than nothing, for she found herself pictured as a pitiable victim to her lover's faithlessness. The very fact that the reporters refrained from bringing out the picture of her misery in strong colors was evidence of the sincerity with which they wrote. They were satisfied that Ivan had eloped ! To tell how loyally she had clung to him would be to put her in a ridiculous light before all readers.

The tears that came to Clara's eyes were angrily dashod away at first, but they would flow, and after a moment she gave full vent to them. Her experience was one that comes only to those who have to suffer such great calami- ties that for the time all Ijfe seems to be centered upon them, and the awaking to the cold fact that all life runs along just as before, and the great calamity speedily be- comes an event of yesterday, is almost as hard to bear as ttie original shock. This awakening with Clara was coin-

CORE OB OEA TIVE DETAIL. 81

cident to a fresh determination to continue her search. The world might- laugh if it chose to be so cruel ; she be- lieved in her lover and would yet find him.

The bell had rung for luncheon, and drying her eyes, Clara went into the dining room. Her uncle was already at the table. His greeting was constrained but not lack- ing in affection and sympathy.

"Don't you think it would be better, Clara," he said gently after they had exchanged a few words, "to with- draw for a while from public view? I am afraid you are doing no good, and I will not conceal from you that I re- gard your loyal search as hopeless. I am getting to be an old man, and I have seen a great deal of the world, as we reckon it by the human beings who populate it. This blow that has fallen upon you has fallen on others before your time, and it will fall again. This that seems to you incredible has been no less incredible in the past "

"Stop, please, uncle,'' interrupted Clara; "I cannot draw comparisons, and if I could they would be value-, less. I must judge my affair by its own circumstances alone. I believe Ivan has done no wrong, and it is nothing less than my duty to him and myself to right the wrong that has been done to him."

"But tell me, my dear child, is there anything in the situation that promises a solution other than that found by the detectives and the reporters?"

"Yes, uncle, there is," replied Clara in a low tone, "and I am glad the reporters have not found the clew, and I am not sorry that Mr. Bowker missed it, too. I will tell you about it."

"Papa," said Louise, coming into the room at this mo- ment, "Mr. Dexter has called. 1 was coming downstairs when the bell rang, and I answered it. I showed him into the library."

'I wish he would confine his calls to the office, " ex- claimed Mr. Pembroke, impatiently. "You will have to excuse me, though, for I am obliged to see him."

82 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL.

"I am afraid papa is having a serious time with his business," said Louise, after he had gone.

"Everything comes at once, doesn't it?" responded Clara; "I am so sorry! He wants me to give up trying to find Ivan, dear. It hurts me to displease uncle, but what would you do? I think he would like to have me go away for a time."

"Oh, I don't think that! I am sure he feels toward you as if you were his own daughter."

"I am sure he does, Lou. A father couldn't be more af- fectionate and kind ; but in this matter, how can I yield to his wishes? He does not know. "

"Do you mean about Mr. Poubalov?"

"Partly, but I had more in mind that no one could know Ivan's character as well as I do."

Louisu thought of her own budding love. If Ralph Har- mon were under suspicion, could she fail to defend him? Could she think of him as other than honorable and faith- ful?

A servant passed through the room, and left the door in the hall carelessly ajar. Neither of the young ladies no- ticed it.

"Clara, " said Louise, "I should try to do just as you are doing, but I know I could not be so brave. I think if you should tell uncle about Mr. Poubalov it might make him feel better."

"I intend to do so, " replied Clara, "and would have done so last evening if he had been at home."

They were interrupted by Mr. Pembroke's voice. He had stepped from the library into the hall, and was speak- ing with ill-suppressed anger.

"I won't listen to anything you have to say on the mat- ter," he said, "and I will ask you to confine your talks to mo to business matteis; and when you must see me, go to the office."

"Ugh!" grunted old Dexter in reply, "she'll make you as ridiculous as she makes herself."

COEEOBORATIVE DETAIL. 83

"Dexter," exclaimed Mr. Pembroke, "I think you're the worst villain unhung!"

"H'm, h'm, h'm," muttered Dexter, "you're a fool, Mat Pembroke. I think you're a fool!"

The front door closed loudly and Mr. Pembroke strode into the dining-room, where the young ladies were look- ing at each other with astonished eyes. Mr. Pembroke was flushed, and he bit his lip with added vexation as he noticed that his daughter and niece had heard the last words of his conversation with Dexter.

"I am sorry " he began, his voice still shaking with

anger. He did not complete his remark, but sat down and tried to eat.

After a moment Clara rose and put her arms softly about his neck.

"I am sorry, too, uncle dear," she said, "that you have so much trouble about me. Of course that vile man was speaking of me."

Mr. Pembroke shuddered violently at her first touch. He released her arms abruptly and stood up.

"No, don't!" he said with an expression of the deepest pain; "you continue your search in your own way, child. Don't mind about me or anybody else, least of all that — that meddlesome Dexter."

"I was going to tell you some of the information I learned yesterday, uncle."

"No, no! no, no! I don't want to hear it — that is, not nocv. Forgive me, child; I am disturbed by business mat- ters and cannot attend to it nofo This evening if you like. Good-by."

He hastened from the room, more agitated than when he had come in.

"It's a shame," said Clara, bitterly, "that any one who is in trouble has to annoy all those who are near to her."

"I wouldn't think of it that way, dear," responded Louise; "papa is as sympathetic as can be, and I am sure that when he gets over his anger at this Mr. Dexter's in- terference, there will be nothing to regret. He said him-

84 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL.

self, you know, that he would talk with you this even- ing."

"I hope I shall have something definite to tell him then," said Clara. "Will you go downtown with me again this afternoon?"

Of course she would, and in due time, therefore, the young ladies were again at police headquarters. Detective Bowker was evidently highly pleased with himself, al- though he manfully tried to suppress any signs of triumph.

"I called at your house this forenoon, Miss Hilman," he said, "to inform you that the driver of the closed car- riage has been found."

"What does he say?" asked Clara eagerly.

"He corroborates what I told you yesterday.'

"Does he say that he drove Mr. Strobel to the Park Square Station?"

"Yes, just as I told you."

"Can I see him?"

"I have no doubt you will be able to do so. He is not here now. He has gone about his work, but I can have him here at any time, or he will call on you. He suggested that himself when I told him that you would be pretty likely to doubt his story."

"I should like to see him," said Clara, her voice faint and tremulous in spite of herself. "WThen did you find him, Mr. Bowker?"

"Well, as to that," replied the detective, reluctantly, "Billings came in here early this morning. You know I said that might happen."

"Yes. What stable does he drive for?"

"What stable?" echoed Bowker with his stare of sur- prise; "why should you ask that, Miss Hilman?"

"Because I have visited every stable in Boston to find whether any employee could have been driving a closed carriage along Park Street at the hour when the wheel of Mr. Strobel's coupe came off."

"Whew! you did mean business, didn't you?" ex- claimed Bowker with evident admiration. "It's a pity you

CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. 85

had such a time of it. Billings drove his own carriage. He wasn't connected with any of the stables."

"I am glad to know that my search did not fail through any lack of thorough inquiry, " said Clara, and she felt her courage reviving. "Will you send word to this Mr. Billings that I would like to see him?"

"Certainly. When shall I tell him to call?"

"Any time this evening. And, Mr. Bowker, can you not give me the name of the man who said he saw Mr. Strobel buy a ticket for New York?"

"I cannot do so. The fact is, we haven't the name. I expected to get it, honestly I did, for I heard that Strobel was recognized in the station by a friend; but that friend hasn't turned up; and, to tell you the plain truth, we don't think it necessary to inquire for him."

"It seems to me " began Clara, stopping and reflect- ing. She was going to protest against the imperfect char- acter of the investigation, but she thought better of it. This detective unquestionably had no interest to find other than the truth, and with his low conceptions of character, due doubtless to his frequent contact with criminals, it would be but natural for him to see no other explanation for Ivan's disappearance than the one to substantiate which he had obtained a certain amount of evidence. If even her good uncle were disposed to view the idea of the elopement as a possibility, nay, as a probability, what bet- ter could be expected of one to whom Ivan was merely a man like other men? And the evidence of the "second driver" which was undoubtedly straightforward Per- haps Ivan had gone to New York. How could she tell?

Not with Lizzie White, of course, but She would talk

with the driver.

"I shall be greatly obliged," she concluded, "if you will send me word should any new development turn up. I don't suppose I can expect you to pay any further atten- tion to the case."

"We may hear from New York at any time," replied

86 CORROBORATIVE DETAIL.

Bowker; "the police there are on the lookout for Strobel, and if we hear anything I will let you know."

Louise tucked her arm affectionately within Clara's, and asked:

"Where now, dear?"

4 'We will go to Mrs. White's," responded Clara, drear- ily. Her faith was yet undisturbed, but the mystery seemed the darker, for if the wily Russian had had to do with Ivan's departure, how much harder it would be to find him in New York than in Boston ! Then, had he gone voluntarily, might it not be possible that he did not wish her to search for him? Surely he would write if he could. With that thought, and a renewed conviction that Ivan was somehow constrained of his liberty, she arrived at Mrs. White's house.

"I'm so glad to see you," cried the landlady, "with all this talk in the papers. I have heard from Lizzie. See! Here is the letter."

She handed a sheet of paper to Clara. It was not a long letter, but what little there was was rambling in style. It was dated from Second Avenue, New York, and stated that the writer had found a new home.

"I should be happy," she wrote, "if it wasn't for the way I had to go. But there wasn't any other way. After a while I shall tell you all about it."

Clara 's quick perceptions told her that any person with the elopement explanation in his head would see a signifi- cance in these words that could not fail to reflect unfavor- ably upon Ivan.

"Mrs. White," she said tremulously, "you won't show this letter to reporters, or detectives, or any body else, will you?"

J

t

v /

STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 87

CHAPTER XI.

STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV.

"I had already shown it to Mr. Bowker, " replied Mrs. White, anxiously; "I thought it might convince him that Lizzie had nothing to do with the disappearance of Mr. Strobel."

"It didn't convince him," said Clara, bitterly; "but no matter. May I copy Miss Lizzie's address?"

"Of course. Are you going to write to her?"

"Perhaps so. Have you written yet?"

"I haven't had time, but I shall do so this afternoon. Is there something you would like to have me say?"

Clara was intent with her thoughts.

"Mrs. White," she said presently, "if you write to- night, could you omit any reference to Mr. Strobel?"

"Land sakes!" exclaimed the good lady; "whatever should I write about then? With Lizzie's name in the papers, and everybody believing that she ran away with Mr. Strobel, what should I say?"

"I suppose it would be hard to ignore it ajtogether, but couldn't you omit saying anything of the rumors that have connected their names?"

"Why, I'll try to, Miss Hilman, but Lizzie will have to know about it some time." .

"Certainly, when you write to-morrow you can say what you please about it. Just for to-day I wish you wouldn't. I'll come down early to-morrow morning, and perhaps I will be able to tell you a great deal more than you know now, more than any of us know."

"I do hope you will hear something definite," said Mrs. White, "for you can't tell how much easier I am to know that Lizzie's settled somewhere, that she's alive and in a

88 STRANGE EXIT OF PO UBAL O V.

home. If you only knew that Mr. Strohel was sick in a hospital, now, it would be better, wouldn't it?"

"Nothing is so dreadful as uncertainty," replied Clara; "you'll be very careful what you write then?"

"As for that, Miss Hilman, I don't see that I need to write at all to-day. It's only a day more, and if you say it won't make any difference to you what I say to-morrow, I'll put it off till then if you like."

"I should be so much obliged! Have you seen Mr. Li- tizki to-day?"

"No, nor the dark gentleman, either. Mr. Litizki's shop is not far from here, if you'd like to see him."

Clara inquired the way, and soon after the young ladies set out for the little tailor's place of business.

Litizki was his own master in business, and he em- ployed two or more fellow-countrymen as assistants, the number varying with the demands of his enterprise. On this day there were several men in the shop, but they were not there as workmen. Most of them had come to talk with Litizki about the Strobel case. He was not very com- municative, but that was his way. Nevertheless he had some things to say, and for this reason his acquaintances found that he talked much more freely than usual.

"I tell you, "he insisted, his dull eyes glowing with hate, "Alexander Poubalov is in Boston. I am not one to be mistaken in that man, and his presence here means trouble for any, perhaps all of us."

"What could he wish to do against poor Russians, Nich- olas Litizki, who have no intention of revisiting their na- tive country?" asked one of the group.

"Better ask what has he done?" retorted the tailor. "Here is Ivan Strobel, more prosperous than we, with more powerful friends, and what has Poubalov done to him? Would that I knew !"

"As soon as Poubalov appears," remarked another, "Litizki will lay the very next crime that occurs to his hands."

"Where Poubalov goes," said Litizki, "you will ever

STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 8y

find treachery and oppression. It is not for you, Peter, to make light of Poubalov. You have felt his hand as well as I."

"Yes," admitted Peter, "but in the Strobel matter you do not forget what the police have discovered, do you? Well might you suspect the dirty spy, were it not that one does not go far, it seems, to find the woman in the case."

"Bah!" sneered Litizki; do you forget that there are two women in the case? And have you seen either of them? No. Well, I have seen both. I have no unkind word for Lizzie White, with whom they say he went away ; but I tell you, friends, Ivan Strobel could not have preferred her to Miss Hilman." He pronounced the name softly as if it aroused a feeling akin to reverence. "You should see her, " he continued ; "she is a very angel of beauty and goodness. Happy would be the man whose privilege it was simply to worship her; and as for him whom she would permit to love her — Bah ! talk to me not about the woman in the case until you have seen Miss JJilman."

His friends listened gravely. They found nothing ludi- crous in Litizki 's occasionally extravagant language. When he was stirred to something like eloquence, it was almost always by a memory of the wrongs he had suffered, and then no language could have been too imaginative to ex- press the bitterness with which his sympathetic hearers listened.

"Where did you see her, Litizki?" asked one of them. *"Never mind now," he replied; "I have seen her since Strobel disappeared. She is bearing up bravely, and scorns the suggestion that he eloped with Miss White. She is devoting her life to finding him, and it is my opinion that every poor Russian in Boston ought to do the same."

He looked furtively from face to face in the group, to observe the effect of his words. Most of them stared at the floor.

"Strobel was a good man," said one, after a long pause; "but what could any of us do?"

"Do?" repeated the tailor, and his indignant reply died

90 STRANGE EXIT OF PO UBALO V.

on his lips as he remembered with sudden distinctness the fiasco of the previous night. "We could at least watch Poubalov, and I, for one, intend to do so. I cannot sit, and cut, and sew, and think, while he is in this country and my friend is in his power."

"Nicholas Litizki," said one who had not spoken previ- ously, " if I were in your place, I would let the Strobel case take care of itself."

The tailor glanced at the speaker.

"You speak as if we were still in Russia, "he said, "and you had authority to command me."

*' You will do as you please," returned the other; "but if I were in your place, I should keep quiet."

"Listen then, all of you," exclaimed Litizki, with ergy ; "I shall not keep quiet. I shall pursue Poubalov. I shall do everything possible to effect the rescue of Ivan Strobel, and if I have to sacrifice my business and e\< thing, and every chance I have in the world, I shall do it."

The door of the little workshop opened, and Alexander Poubalov stepped in.

"Good-day, to you, Nicholas Litizki, and friends, "he said with easy familiarity. "When one is in a fort land, and has need of something, he will naturally api ly to a fellow-countryman, will he not?"

He looked around at the group, as if expecting a general assent. The men looked darkly at him and were silent. If all had not seen him in Russia, they knew who he v and if there had been any doubt, they would have but needed to glance at Litizki to see that he was facing his arch-enemy.

The tailor rose from his bench, and his sallow face was deathly pale.

"Alexander Poubalov," he said determinedly, "this is no place for you. You hear no words of welcome—

"Gently, Litizki, my friend, gently," interposed the spy; "I call simply on business. I want clothes. "Will you make them for me?"

STRANGE EXIT OF PO UBAL 0 V. 91

"Not for all the wealth of the czar!" returned the tailor, fiercely.

"Then we will waste no time discussing material and prices. Good-day again, " and Poubalov walked grandly out.

The group exchanged inquiring glances in silence for a moment, and then Litizki exclaimed:

"You see, friends! you see! I was not mistaken in the man, and he is the same here as in Russia — the spy who goes everywhere and does nothing. I don't need to tell you that he wanted no garments. He came here for a pur- pose, and he accomplished it. It is now my turn, Vargo- vitch, to utter a warning. Poubalov's eyes are upon you, and if I were you — Bah!"

Litizki had begun to imitate the serious tone in which his friend had warned him to let the Strobel case alone, but it seemed superfluous to suggest a warning to Vargo- vitch after he had himself seen the spy.

"Yes, I understand, " said Vargovitch, "and I simply repeat that you'd better keep out of the Strobel case."

"Vargovitch," cried Litizki, "you do not talk like a loyal Russian. Is it you who would stand by and let this spy work his will among us?"

"1 have no more love for Poubalov and his work than you have, Litizki," replied Vargovitch. "May there not be reasons for my counsel — reasons that you do not under- stand?"

Litizki peered at the speaker silently and resumed his work. Vargovitch left the room and shortly afterward the other visitors dispersed.

"I would do what Vargovitch says, Nicholas Litizki," remarked one of the tailor's assistants.

Litizki worked away as if he had not heard, and his thoughts were not pleasant or hopeful. It had seemed to him as if every compatriot of his in the city would need but the suggestion to unite in an effort to outwit Pouba- lov aod rescue Strobel. Litizki could not understand it,

92 STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV.

and he was disappointed. It was while he was meditating thus that Clara and Louise called.

The little tailor almost blushed as he left his bench and went to meet them.

"I should almost say," he began hurriedly, after ho had awkwardly acknowledged their greetings, "that ought not to come here. Are you aware that Poubalnv may be, probably is, watching your every stop? That man has the eyes of a thousand, and if it wore possible to throw him off the track it would be best to do so. But it is impossible. If you did not come here, he woud find out that you know me, and he would infer the rest."

"You seem troubled, Mr. Litizki," said 'Jlara, kindly; "have you, too, given up Mr. Strobel?"

"I? Never! It is because I do not give him up that — well, yes, I am troubled. Why disguise the fact that Pou- balov is a powerful enemy? I am not a coward, Miss Hil- man; my life is not worth enough to me to make n:<> care for it, but I fear that man's power will be too great for the friends of Ivan Strobel."

"You have seen him, then?"

"Yes, I — " Litizki averted his eyes and continued: "He has been here, to-day, not more than half an hour ago."

"I hope, Mr. Litizki," said Clara, "that you will not put yourself in his power. If you feel that it is dangerous to help in the search for Mr. Strobel, you must not do it."

"Dangerous? It is too late to think of that, if I cared about it. That man has possession of Mr. Strobel, and will keep him until he has accomplished some purpose. Stro- bel will not yield. " Litizki paused and looked gloomily away. "You see, it is a question of how to circumvent Poubalov," he added.

"I am afraid, Mr. Litizki, that your loyalty to yonr friend will bring misfortune upon you. I should be very sorry for that."

"Ah, Miss Hilman," muttered the tailor, and a sad wistfulness lingered briefly in his eyes, "you are worthy

STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. 93

Clara was deeply touched, and her voice trembled as she said :

"Thank you, Mr. Litizki. I hope to be worthy of your kind thoughts. I may learn something to-night that will put another light on the case. Is it too much to ask you to call at my uncle's house some time during the even- ing:"'

"Not if you lived in Siberia, Miss Hilman. Where is it, and when shall I come?"

Clara gave him the address and left him, begging him to come early. When they were on the way home, Louise said :

"I am more and more amazed at your method every day, dear. Have I not been good to listen, and ask no questions and volunteer no advice?"

"Too good, dear. I should often want advice, and ask it, but that I fear hurting you by not following it. I must go my own way."

"Of course you must, but I was just leading up to this question: What in the world do you want of Mr. Litizki this evening?"

"I hardly know myself, dear; but if that, 'second driver1 calls, I hope to make Mr. Litizki useful. Will that do?"

It had to, for Clara fell to thinking, and her cousin saw that questions would be irritating.

Mr. Pembroke sent word from his office that he should not come to dinner, and- he had not arrived when the ser- vant announced a caller, and handed a card to Clara. It was Poubalov.

"I suppose," said Clara, showing not the least surprise, "that I'd better see him alone. Will you wait here" (they were in the dining-room), "in case I should want you?"

Poubalov smiled and his face looked almost attractive as he rose and bowed when Clara entered the drawing- room. At that instant Clara felt that but for his self-con- fessed methods of deceit, she could have trusted him, and

94 STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV.

this in spite of the black pictures that Liti'/ki and Paul Palovna had drawn of him.

"I am delighted, Miss Hilman," he said, "to observe that you endure your sorrow and your remarkable work so well."

"I am told that nothing escapes you," replied Clara, "and so I suppose you know all about my search for the driver of Mr. Strobel's second carriage."

"Miss Clara," said a servant at the hall door, "a man who says his name is Billings wishes to see you."

"Show him into the library, please, " answered Clara, 11 ion to Poubalov — "Will you pardon me? This is the man of whom I was speaking, and I must see him."

"Pray do, " responded the Russian; "my message can well wait until he haa gone."

Clara at once crossed the hall into the library. The min- ute she was out of the room Poubalov went to the door and cautiously opened it a little way. He closed it quickly and reflected. Clara had loft the door from the hall in th. library wide open, and the street door would be easily in view to anybody in the library.

Poubalov went from one to another of the several win- dows and looked out. From one at the side of the room ho saw a few yards of turf bounded by a low hedge, and be- yond that the park-like grounds surrounding a l.-i dwelling. This window was partially <•]). n.

Tho spy looked once more toward the hall door. Ho had irivon his hat and stio.k to the servant, and thoy hud 1 placed somewhere in the hall. fl<- shruirijod his shoulders, pushed the window furlhor up and stopped out.

A momenl lalor, Louise, who was idly ira/iuLr out of iho dining-room window, was considerably startled to see a man, whom in the gathering dusk she could not re< nize, leap over the hedge into the adjoining grounds, and disappear behind the shrubbery.

LITIZKI BEEAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 95

CHAPTER XII.

LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT.

In the brief interval that elasped between tha time when she turned from Poubalov and the moment she en- tered the library, Clara reflected that while her loyal heart would rebel at the story to be told by Billings, she must hear him patiently, and not permit her distrust of him to manifest itself. One can think to good purpose in even so short a time as it takes to walk across a room. Clara was fully resolved to be guided by her reason alone in dealing with Billings, and not to permit herself to doubt his story if it should prove, as was probable, that what he had to say tended to corroborate the detective's theory.

Yet, when she looked at him, all her woman's intuition rebelled. She saw a man perhaps twenty-five years old, with nothing whatever remarkable in his appearance; but in his eyes and attitude there seemed to be a conscious- ness of antagonism, as if he expected to be doubted, sharply cross-examined, and as if he were determined that nothing should shake his story. His sullen, dogged expression was a help to Clara in conquering her immedi- ate aversion to him, and she began the critical interview with a move that surprised and embarrassed him.

He was sitting, holding his hat on his knees, at the farther side of the room. Clara crossed directly to him with outstretched hand, saying:

"I am Miss Hilman. You are Mr. Billings, I believe. I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you. Mr. Bowker may have told you how I hunted the city over to find you. Sit down, please; let me take your hat."

Billings had risen awkwardly as he saw that she was

96 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT.

corning toward him, and, quite unaware of how she man- aged it, he found that she had taken one of his hands in her own. In his confusion he let his hat fall, picked it up hastily, and at last sat down again, feeling still the warm clasp of Clara's hand, while with bewildered eyes he saw this self-possessed, queenly young woman place his bat- tered hat upon a table and draw up a chair opposite to him. He had not said a word. If he had come with any set phrases for beginning his story, they were completely driven from his mind.

Clara looked at him for a moment, and he averted his eyes.

"Were you acquainted with Mr. Strobel?" she asked presently, speaking in low tones that needed no art to color with the sadness that weighed upon her heart.

"No'm, I wasn't," replied Billings, with a quick glance at her.

"lam sorry for that,'7 said Clara, "and yet it shows how kind you are to come here and toll me about this mat- ter. I suppose you had to come a long way. "

"I live in the North End," said Billings, uneasily. "Bowker told me to come. "

"The North End is a long way off," she declared, "and I thank you just the same. I suppose you may have told Mr. Bowker so carefully about this that you are tired of the matter, but I should like very much to hear you my- self. Do you mind telling me just what you told him?"

"That's what I come for, "and Billings seemed to be considerably relieved. "I was driving down Park Street," he began, "when I saw that the coupe just in front of mo had got into trouble. I went slow because people got around thick, and, besides, I wanted to see what was thn matter. As I was looking, the man in the coupe clumb out and asked me was I engaged. 1 told him no, and ho got in. He seemed to be in a hurry."

"One moment, "interposed Clara, gently. The narration struck her as distinctly parrot-like, and if it were some- thing that he had learned to recite, she preferred tc break

LIT1ZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 97

the thread of his story before he had come to the impor- tant part, rather than give him the advantage of estab- lishing a statement in smooth order. If he were telling the truth, no manner of interruption could prevent him from eventually making himself understood ; if he were lying, she must involve him in contradictions. So, without pre- meditation, Clara said :

",You are going just a little too fast for me, and I hope you will forgive me. Every detail, you know, seems im- portant to me. Where had you been that morning, Mr. Billings?"

"Been to a funeral, miss," he answered promptly. "Yes, so I understood; but where?" "Out to Mount Auburn."

"That is quite a long way from Park Street, isn't it? It must be four miles."

"Yes'm, 'bout that."

"It was about eleven o'clock, or a little after, when Mr. Strobel's coupe broke down, and you had been to Mount Auburn and had just got back. I see. Where did you leave your passengers, the persons you took to the funeral, I mean?"

With a glance of sullen resentment Billings answered :

"At their house."

"Yes, Mr. Billings," and Clara smiled as if she were not in the least annoyed, "but that isn't telling where. I didn't ask for the street and number. Why should I? It was in Cambridge, was it not?"

After the slightest perceptible hesitation, Billings an- swered :

"No; 'twas in the West End."

"Ah, then you had come over Beacon Hill on your way somewhere. Where were you going, Mr. Billings?"

As Billings hesitated more noticeably, she continued:

"Do you have some regular place where you wait for passengers, or do you drive about picking them up where you find them?"

98 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT.

"1 was going to the Old Colony Depot," said Billings, huskily.

"I see. Is it customary, Mr. Billings, for cabmen to leave the curtains of their carriages closely drawn after they leave a funeral party?"

"No, 'tain't, not long, but you wouldn't have me stop in front of the house to pull 'em up, would you?"

"Certainly not. You did quite right, doubtless. When did you first see the coupe?"

"At the corner of Beacon. It turned into Park Street just ahead of me."

"Where did Mr. Strobel tell you to take him?"

"To Dr. Merrill's church, Parker Avenue, Roxbury."

Billings didn't know it, but his examiner came very near to breaking down at this point. There was nothing as yet to show that the driver was not telling the truth, although Clara had prepared a trap for him that she in- tended to spring a little later, and the mention of the church where she was to be married brought up such a flood of emotions that it seemed as if she would choke. Then, too, whether Billings were practicing deceit or not, it was certain that for this moment at least she was fol- lowing her lover's journey correctly, and she had arrived at that critical point where the change in his intentions, or in his power to act, occurred. So, it was in a very faint voice that she told Billings to go on. He immedi- ately resumed his parrot-like narration :

"He seemed to be in a hurry, for he spoke quick. I closed the door on him, and got into my seat as fast as I could and whipped up. 1 wanted to get along myself, you see, 'cause it was quite a long drive, and I had to get back to the depot."

This last sentence sounded like a fresh thought inter- jected on the spur of the moment, for Billings spoke it slower than the rest, and glanced inquiringly at Clara, as if to see how she took it. She noticed the difference, but simply nodded, and Billings went on.

"Nothing happened till we got to Elliot Street. Then

LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 99

the gentleman opened the door and hollered 'Driver!' I pulled up a bit and turned round to see what he -wanted. 'Driver!' says he, 'I've changed my mind. Take me to the Park Square Station.' 'All right, sir,' says I, and he closed the door again. So I druv 'im to the station, and he got out and give me a dollar and went inside, and that's all there is to it."

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Billings," said Clara; "I suppose you went directly to the Old Colony Depot after that?"

"Yei'm. That's where I went."

He rose as if there could be nothing more for him to say, but Clara was not done with him.

"Just one more question, " she said; "sit down again, please. Did you see Mr. Strobel speak or bow to anybody at the station?"

"No'm. There wasn't many people about, and he hur- ried inside like as if his train was just going."

"Was there anybody there whom you knew?"

"Yes'm, and you can ask him. A feller named O'Brien, who works there, was just at the door as we drew up, and he says 'Hello' to me. He'll tell you he saw me land my passenger tnere, for he came forward, thinking to get the gentleman's bag to carry."

"Mr. O'Brien may have noticed where Mr. Strobel went after going into the station, " mused Clara.

"Yes'm, he might. You might ask him."

"Thank you; 1 presume I shall. Now, Mr. Billings, I want to show you in some way that I appreciate your kindness in coming here to tell me this. I have had to drive about a great deal for two days, and shall have to use a carriage to-morrow. I shall be glad to employ you. "

Billings flushed and shifted about uneasily

"I can't, miss," he muttered.

"Why not, Mr. Billings?"

The driver stole a glance at her earnest face, and saw nothing there but sad surprise.

100 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT.

"Why not?" Clara gave the man no help by suggesting a possible excuse.

"My carriage is engaged— that is," he blurted, "I haven't got any carriage that would be fit for you."

"What is the matter with the one in which you took Mr. Strobel?"

"It got smashed up and is being repaired. You see," and he mumbled his words so that they were almost unintel- ligible, "the same day a party of toughs hired it; they were kind o' swell toughs, and they got on a racket, and the carriage was damaged. 'Tain't fit to use."

"Mr. Billings!" Clara spoke with a sudden energy that startled the driver, "was Mr. Strobel in the carriage when it was damaged?"

"No'm, no'm, he wan't," stammered Billings.

The explanation suggested an entirely new thought to Clara Before her mental vision there came swiftly a pic- ture of her lover struggling with somebody — might it not be Poubalov? — in the carriage itself. She seemed to see aJ violent conflict in which seats and fixtures gave way as j men's bodies fell heavily. And Ivan was overpowered, his enemies triumphed, he was motionless, unconscious— perhaps fatally injured, and they had hidden him away somewhere lest their crime come to the light !

This was wholly unlike the vision she had seen on the j evening of what should have been her wedding clay ; it ; had none of the aspects of an hallucination ; for as the alarming details shaped themselves in her thoughts, sho was conscious that Billings sat before her, looking fright- ened, and that he rose again to go. In this instance she was but following the suggestions brought out by her in- quiry to what might be their logical, natural conclusion, j

"I am sorry you cannot drive me to-morrow," she said, recovering and withdrawing her eyes, which had been fixed in a strained stare upon Billings for a very brief pe- riod. "Before you go, tell me the names and addresses of the persons you took to the funeral, please.

LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. 101

"I don't remember, "replied Billings, uneasily. "I shall have to look up my book; 'tain't here."

"Will you do so?" asked Clara, pleasantly, convinced now that the man was lying; "and send the names to me, please. Will you do that to-night?"

"Yes'm," replied Billings reaching for his hat. "And what is your address?"

Billings told her, and she laid her hand gently on his arm. An idea that had occurred to her vaguely when his name was announced as she stood before Poubalov, now recurred to her in the shape of a plan. She would have Billings confront the Russian, and watch their faces nar- rowly for some sign of recognition, or alarm.

"Will you come into the next room a moment?" she said, "I have something to show you."

There seemed to be a shade of suspicion in his eyes, but he made no objection, and Clara conducted him to the drawing-room. It was dark. With a premonition of disap- pointment, Clara found a match on the mantel and lit the gas. After a hasty glance around she opened the door to the dining-room.

"Lou!" she whispered eagerly, "have you seen Mr. Poubalov?"

"No," replied Louise, coming forward and entering the parlor; "has he gone? Then it must have been he!"

"Who? What have you seen? Wait, come into the hall. Will you sit down just a minute longer, Mr, Billings? I shall be but a moment."

Billings complied, and the young ladies passed quickly into the hall, where the first thing that Clara saw were Poubalov's hat and stick lying upon a table. She turned in the utmost wonderment upon her cousin.

"All I can say, "said Louise, "is that I saw a man leap over the hedge into Mr. Jordan's grounds a short time after you went into the drawing-room to meet Poubalov. I couldn't tell who it was, couldn't even see that he had no hat on. I feared he might be a tramp,

102 LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT.

but thought then that he had been frightened away, and that there was no danger."

"He was frightened away?" murmured Clara, fcclinir her blood run cold; "he dared not face his man Billings!'

"I supposed," continued Louise, in agitation," that Pou- balov was with you. I heard no voices, but thought per- haps that you had gone into the library with him, for a door closed once."

"Yes, when Billings came. Oh! if Litizki were only here!"

"Why! what could he do?"

"I would have him follow Billings. Oh, I could cry! it is the one opportunity for solving this mystery that wo have found, and now we are going to lose it!"

Louise was greatly distressed.

"Isn't there some way that you can detain Billings, " she suggested, "until Litizki arrives?"

"No. He's been trying to get away for several minutes. It is just possible that Litizki may be near. I'll go out with Billings, as if to call at a neighbor's, and if I see Li- tizki will put him on the track at once."

She wont upstairs for her hat, lingering over the prep- aration in order to give Lilizki all possible opportunity to keep his appointment, and when she came down again Bil- lings was in the hall.

"I can't wait no longer," he said gruffly.

"Very well," replied Clara; "I thank you again for call- ing, 1 am going as far as the next house, and you can es cort me."

Billings scowled with disagreeable surprise. At the gate he waited to see which way she would turn.

"I'm not going that way, miss," he said, and started off at a rapid pace in the opposite direction.

WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 103

CHAPTER XIII.

WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI.

Clara retired before her uncle returned, and when at last he appeared, it was only to pack his bag and hurry away to catch the midnight train for New York.

"I may be gone a week," he told Louise, "and I may get back in two days. Telegraph me at the Travelers' Ho- tel, if I am wanted for anything."

Mr. Pembroke's departure was a great disappointment to Clara. She reproached herself that she had not made an opportunity to tell him about her conversation with Pou- balov and Litizki ; it was his right to know everything that could possibly bear upon the case, and could she have told him, she would have besought him to advise her.

She was now in a bewildering maze of doubts and uncer- tainties. Billings had lied to her ; she was almost as sure of that as if she had already proved it; but at what part of his story the falsehood began she could only guess. There was no doubt that Ivan had taken Billings' carriage. Did he give the driver orders to go to the Park Square Station? Did Billings drive to the station? The latter question she could answer with some degree of satisfac- tion by inquiry of the man O'Brien, and that seemed the first thing to do; but what then?

Poubalov had called to say something, and had not only gone away without saying it, but had gone in such wise as to leave no reasonable doubt that he dared not face the driver of the closed carriage. Was it not an inevitable in- ference that Billings had been hired by the .Russian? It was with evident difficulty that Billings had stumbled through the story as it was. Would not Poubalov, recog- nizing the driver's mental inferiority, have argued that if

104 WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKL

they were suddenly brought face to face, Billings would have betrayed their complicity by at least a start?

And Litizki, what had become of him? It was not to bo thought of that he had abandoned the case. Poubalov had called at his shop during the day, unquestionably with some ulterior design. Could anything be more reasonable than to suppose that in some way the spy had frustrated the attempt of Litizki to help her?

The more she pondered the various puzzling aspects of the case, the more everything seemed to center upon Pou- balov, and she shuddered with apprehension as Litizkfs characterization of him recurred to her. He was, indeed, a terrible enemy.

Having in mind only the known facts in the case, and disregarding utterly all inferences and conjectures, she tried to reason along various lines, in the hope that thus a theory might be set up which should command sufficient respect to justify a new departure in her search. She be- gan with the fact that Ivan had made every preparation for marriage— and there a new thought presented itself. He had surrendered his room ; he must, therefore, have packed his belongings; had they been disturbed? This might be a matter of infinite significance, and one that she would attend to without delay.

"Louise," she said (they were at the breakfast table and her cousin was lingering over her coffee while Clara was absorbed in thought), "will you go downtown with me again to-day?"

"Of course, dear," replied Louise; "I will be ready in ten minutes."

Louise was relieved at Clara's suggestions. She had been hopelessly wondering what Clara could find to do next, and she dreaded for her cousin's health should there prove to be no active work upon which she could concen- trate her faculties. She left the room to prepare for the day's jaunt, and Clara resumed her thinking.

Every preparation for marriage, and a start actually made for the church. Then an accident that snmebody had

WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 105

prepared. Who? There must have been someobdy who had a great object to attain in preventing the marriage, or

in getting possession of Ivan. Suppose it were Poubalov, what then? With the insight he himself had given her into his character, would he not do everything possible to throw her off the right track? If he had abducted Ivan, would he hesitate to abduct Litizki if he found that the lit- tle tailor was in his way?

It was vain to speculate for a reason for Poubalov's main action; that must lie in his capacity as a paid spy of a government with which Ivan, apparently, had been at one time in conflict. His subsequent actions, so far as she knew them, were all explainable on the theory that he had had to do with Ivan's disappearance.

And so her thoughts revolved around Poublaov, finding at every turn a trace of obliquity that was wholly in con- sonance with his character and his confessed methods.

Clara felt that her reasoning was bringing her to no def- inite end, although her brain teemed with courses of ac- tion that might have been possible could she have com- manded the services of a corps of shrewd, faithful detect- ives. It is generally so with persons who have a great task to accomplish; they find themselves with more plans than resources, more brains than hands. Clara had just come to the sensible conclusion that, compelled to work substantially alone, she would undertake exactly one thing at a time, and, having chosen a line of inquiry, would follow it uninterruptedly to the end, when a serv- ant announced that a man had called to see her.

"I couldn't catch his name, Miss Clara," said the serv- ant, "but I'm afraid he's a beggar, he looks so forlorn and seedy."

Clara knew who it was and she sprang from her chair with more eagerness and animation than she had mani- fested at any time since the disastrous wedding day. She fairly ran into the drawing-room, both her hands ex- tended, her face radiant with smiles, and completely over- whelmed poor Litizki with the warmth of her greeting.

206 WHAT BECAME OF L1TIZKI.

"I was so afraid something dreadful had happened to you!" she exclaimed, "but I knew that you had not de- serted me."

"Deserted you?" said Litizki huskily; "no, but I was afraid you would think so. I didn't know what Poubalov might have told you, and unless you thoroughly under- stand that man, that fiend, Miss Hilinan, he is likely to make you believe anything."

"Then you know that he had been here! You must have recognized his hat in the hall."

"I saw it there and his stick, too, but I knew before then that he had been here. I came to tell you."

Litizki paused, the look of grateful relief that had over- spread his features at first giving way to his customary depressed expression, and he fell into his habit of speak- ing with averted e3res, or with but occasional furtive glances at the person addressed.

"Do tell me, "said Clara; "I have been very anxious about you."

Litizki thought a moment, and then asked :

"May I see Poubalov's cane?"

"To be sure," replied Clara, and she brought it to him from the hall.

Litizki took it, looked it over, felt along the top, and suddenly drew forth the handle, from which a gloaming blade depended. Clara started back with a low exclama- tion of alarm* Litizki touched the edge of the blade with his thumb, as a man tests a razor.

"Alexander Poubalov, "he murmured gloomily, "held this over my heart once, not so long ago."

He thrust it back into its sheath, where it came to rest with an angry click, and handed the cane to Clara.

"That is the kind of man he is, Miss Hilman," he said; "I thought you might like to know."

If he had wished to impress Clara with the horribie gravity of the situation, with its frightful possibilities, he succeeded beyond measure. She held the cane, feeling that it epitomized the spy's career, and a dreadful faint-

WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. 107

ness depressed her which she at length overcame with the utmost difficulty. Having returned the concealed weapon to the hall, she sank into a chair and asked Li- tizki to tell her what had happened to him during the pre, vious evening.

"You asked me to call early, " he hegan, "and I set out to do so. Without going into unnecessary detail, I will say that I came up the street that ends nearly in front of this house, a little after seven o'clock. The exact time doesn't matter, for you will know as nearly as you need to when I tell you that just as I was about to cross the road I saw Poubalov in front of me. He had come by an- other route. I wasn't surprised, for the man seems to read one's thoughts, and it was as if he had known that I was coming, and had determined to prevent me.

"I doubted whether it would be wise to call as long as he was in the neighborhood, but all doubts were set at rest when he himself went up the steps and rang. Of course it would have been the height of folly for me to enter the house then."

"You had the right to," interrupted Clara; "I had asked you to come, and 1 needed you very much."

Litizki looked so miserable that Clara hastened to add:

"I didn't mean to reprove or find fault, Mr. Litizki. I forgot for the moment everything except that eventually, after Poubalov had run away, I wished you were at hand!"

"I hope I made no mistake, Miss Hilman," said Litizki; "at all events I could see no other course at the time than to do what I did."

"I have no doubt you were right. Go on, please."

"T determined to wait until Poubalov went away. If I had been familiar with the house, I might have found my way to the back door and sent word to you by a serv- ant, but I dared not venture, for I knew not from what window Poubalov might be looking. The same reason in- duced me to leave the street, which is clearly in view from some windows, and, moreover, I did not care to risk

108 WHAT BECAME OF LUl/.k L

questions from anybody as to wny I was loitering about. So I slipped into the adjoining grounds, whore there is a lot of shrubbery, and crawled under a tree whose branches hung low.

"From where I lay I could see whether anybody rn- tered or left the house by the front door and I also B all the windows on one side. I had been there less than a minute when somebody went up the steps and was ad- mitted. I could not see who it was, for the evening was cloudy and it grew dark very quickly."

"It was a man named Billings," said Clara; "he drove the closed carriage which took Mr. Strobel from Park Street."

"Indeed! I wish I had known it. Well, events hap- pened pretty quickly just then, for it seemed to me that less than another minute had passed when Poubalov ap- peared at one of the windows on the side of the hoi He raised it, stepped out, and leaped over the ln-d.^o, not five yards from where I lay. Ho passed so close to me that I could have reached out from under the tree and tripprd him up! I lay very- still, wondering what his action could mean, for as you must know, he was bareheaded. If I had dreamed then of going to the house, I could not have done so, for he crouched down by the hedge near the street, and I could see that he had his eyes on the door and that he was waiting. I then determined to follow him wherever he should go, foi of course he meditated villainy. I may have prevented him in that Oh! I don't know!"

Litizki fairly groaned these words, and Clara was about to utter an anxious inquiry, when he resumed :

"Don't let me disturb you, Miss Hilman; I will tell the whole wretched story. How long we lay there I don't know, but you must, for at last you, 1 think it was you, came out of the house and walked down to the gate to say good-night to somebody who left you there — Billings I suppose— and walked away in a direction opposite to us. You, was it you? Yes, you waited a moment, and re- turned to the house, whereupon Poubalov immediately

WHAT BECAME OF L1T1ZKI. 109

got up, leaped over the hedge, darted across the road as noiselessly as if he were a cat, and disappeared.

"I followed as well as I could, and, as luck would have it, I soon overtook him, for he was strolling along slowly, as unconcerned as if he owned a house near by and were out for a breath of fresh air. He rambled on until he came to Washington Street, when he stopped at the curb and looked idly about for several seconds. There were many people about, and his bareheaded condition attracted at- tention. All the shops were open, and suddenly he darted into one of them. It was not a hat store, but when he came out, which was almost immediately, he had a hat on. I suppose he bought it for an extravagant sum off the head of some stranger It would be like him.

"He idled about the neighborhood for as much as an hour, Miss Hilman, and I did all that I could think of to keep him in view without exposing myself. The man is a fiend with a million eyes! But wait, I'll tell you. At last he moved along, and, of course, I followed faithfully, noting every turn, that I might be able to go again by the same way if possible, or at least to the same place, wherever that might be. For in spite of my care I don't know what was his destination, if he had any. It is for this reason that I say I may have prevented him from some fresh villainy.

"At last, in a street to which I could readily return, he paused. I was across the way from him, and I slipped into a doorway, where I was wholly in the dark. I could seo him, though, and for a long, long time he paced slowly back and forth, never once speaking to anybody, or look- ing about, or getting out of my sight. It didn't matter to me. I would have stayed on till I starved in my tracks, but eventually he crossed the street directly toward me. He could not see me, of that I am certain, but of course he had seen me — and — I am a helpless, good-for-nothing fool, Miss Hilman!"

"Why say that?" asked Clara kindly.

"Because he camo straight into the doorway, put his

110 WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI.

hand lightly on my shoulder and said in that deep, scorn- ful voice of his : 'It is enough, Nicholas Litizki. Let us now go home,' and he laughed disagreeably."

Litizki stared aside with an expression of utter self- contempt.

"I weakly said to myself tha^ it was a ruse to get rid of me, and I followed again as ho walked briskly away. He took a street car and went straight to his room in Bui- finch Place. It was past midnight, and so I came this morning, Miss Hilman. "

A NEW DEPAUTUEE. HI

CHAPTER XIV.

A NEW DEPARTURE.

"What a hard and disagreeable experience, " exclaimed Clara, "and so strange too! You have no occasion to re- proach yourself, Mr. Litizki, with an}r neglect. You did all that any man could do, I am sure, and it may not prove to be unfortunate that Poubalov saw that you were watching him."

"1 wish I could think so," responded the tailor, "and it is wonderfully kind of you to be so patient with my failure. Isn't there something that I can do now? lean do no work until this matter is settled, and it is torture to remain idle."

"I know how true that is," sighed Clara; "yes, there is something I think you can do. If Poubalov had not called last evening, and so changed all our plans, I should have asked you to follow Billings when he left the house. I have little faith in him, Mr. Litizki, and it seems to me that on leaving here last night he must have gone directly to report to his accomplice, or employer. Are you sure that Poubalov spoke to nobody?"

"If he did, it was no more than a passing word. He seemed to know no one."

Clara had to stop and think, for Litizki's story tended to upset her theories concerning Poubalov 's exit and his relations with Billings. Could it be possible, after all, that Billings had not been employed by the spy, and that the latter, therefore, had had nothing to do with Ivan's disap- pearance? Perhaps Poubalov worked through still an- other accomplice, and, suspecting possible treachery, had been at the pains of secretly following Billings, to learn whether he and the unknown other were faithful.

A NEW DEPARTURE.

This seemed rather a wild supposition, for it would not be like Poubalov to admit others into his tions.

Had he followed Billings? There was no in

Clara's mind that this was what he started T in-n ho

leaped over the hedge and ran to the side of the road posite to where Billings was walking. Had Poubalov Billings in the darnkess, and, observing Liti/ki's i purposely dodged hither and thither, to «. tailor?

From every question Clara turned more ; before. It must be that she was on the wrong track, else a reasonable answer could be found, a reasonable ex pi; tion suggested for every act. Perhaps she was wr« TU' in obstinately connecting Poubalov with the first act in tragedy, the disappearance of Ivan ; but if so, could Ins conduct even then bo explained?

"Mr. Liti/ki, " said Clara, at length, "I wnnt to know all that can possibly be learned about this man Billings. He gave me his address. Will you undertake to look him up? Unless ho is very closely in league with Poubul<>\ . he will not know who you are, and for that matter it proba- bly won't be necessary for you to meet him. Eventually you might have to follow him somewhere, but at the start you miu'ht learn a great deal from his neighbors.**

"I'll do it, Miss Hilman; but I promise yon no every step I take will be dogged by Poubul-

"Well, never mind. You will be on you guard agai him— and yet, I do not want you to expose y r to

danger," and Clara shuddored as she thought of tho long dagger concealed in Poubalov's cane.

"Bah!" returned Liti/ki, "I care nothing for the <! ger. My only fear is that the villain will overran in anything I may attempt. I am no match for him in skill and cunning, Miss Hilman."

Litizki was woefully dejected. Never did man so long to be possessed of genius, or even talent, and the ta was painfully aware of his own deficiencies.

A NEW DEPARTURE. 113

"You underestimate yourself," said Clara; "you see that I Lave confidence in you, else I would not ask you to undertake the investigation. Will you begin at once?"

"Gladly. You cannot imagine how much courage your good words give me. If I dared to cherish a hope of any kind, it would be that I should accomplish something that would justify your good opinion."

"You have already done so, and will do more, have no doubt of it! I am going downtown myself. Suppose you go to the address Billings gave me, make such inquiries there as seem advisable, and, if you see nothing to com- mand your immediate attention, come and tell me what you have found. I shall be at Mrs. White's. If you come after I go, you will find some word from me as to where to go next."

She gave him Billings' address, saw him to the door with a cheering smile, and then turned to Louise, who had been ready to start for several minutes.

"He had what was to him a dismal story to tell," said Clara, "and I knew he would rather tell it to me alone."

"I supposed so," returned Louise, "and so I took pains not to interrupt you. I wish I could think a quarter as well as you do, dear. I don't feel as if I were the least use."

"Don't be silly, Lou, " and Clara embraced her cousin affectionately ; "if I could think as well as you imagine I do, we should be out of the difficulty in a day. What do 3rou suppose I should do without you?"

Louise was profoundly convinced that Clara would do exactly as she had been doing all along, but she didn't say so. She would have sympathized acutely with Litizki's self-abasement had she known how earnestly he had striven to be of use, and how utterly he had seemed to fail.

They went first to the Park Square Station, Clara, as usual, deeply absorbed in studying the strange problems that confronted her. The impression she had received this morning that Poubalov might not have been associated

H4 A N W DEPARTURE.

directly with Ivan's taking off, grew upon her. How read- ily he had abandoned the suggestion of elopement! Aban- don? he had ignored it utterly. Not once in her conve tion with him had he put that forth as an explanation worthy of investigation. Could it have been his subtle purpose to interest her in a line of inquiry that should lead directly away from that? A shiver passed over her frame, and Louise inquired anxiously what was the mat- ter?

"New theories keep occurring to me," responded Clara gravely, "and each one is a shock worse than the one that preceded it. Let me tell you this one. Suppose that Li//.io White," Clara spoke with difficulty, every word seemingly dragged forth by a violent effort, "suppose she wi-n- in some way Poubalov's agent; I will not, cannot think that Ivan went away with her, but might it not be possible that this remarkable man, who has such mastery over or- dinary minds, had made her an accomplice? Don't see the cleverness of the plan? If Ivan was forced to go to New York, Lizzie's departure for that city the same day is immediately assumed by everybody to mean that they eloped, and probably all in Boston who think of the mat- ter at all, suppose that they have been married. Ivan may be a prisoner in New York, and Lizzie may be under P< >u- balov's pay, or influence, the latter more likely, to not as his jailer, but as a mask for his presence there.

"Poub<\lov has some object to attain in keeping him thus guarded, to torture some political s from him,

perhaps. Now what better could he do than divert suspi- cion in my mind from Lizzie to those whom he rails Nihil- ists, or even upon himself? He saw at first glance that I would not tolerate the thought of an elopement as among the possibilities, so he had need to disarm me of suspicion in that direction. Has not everything he has done 1 done with a view to keeping me in Boston? What does lie care how much poor Litizki dogs his steps, so long as the victim of his intrigue and villainy is hundreds of miles away? His one fear in Boston is that Billings, whom he

A NEW DEPARTURE. 115

hired to help in the abduction, may confess *»jmething. Therefore he tried to dog Billings' steps last night, and whether he succeeded I do not know."

Much of this was Greek to Louise, and she said so, add- ing: "What I do understand is that you feel now as if it would he necessary to go to New York."

" I think so. We will see."

1 'Clara," said Louise, "you will not think that 1 have suspected Ivan of faithlessness, I am sure; but it has seemed to me that unless he returned soon, you would have to go to Lizzie White. You cannot leave any possible explanation unsought. I could not conjecture that she and Poubalov might be concerned together as you have, but I did feel as if you ought to look her up."

"I am glad you think so," responded Clara, "for I was afraid you would oppose my going."

At the station Clara readily found the Mr. O'Brien to whom Billings had referred for corroboration of a part of his story.

"Yes'm," he said in reply to her questions, "I know the Billings you speak of. I saw him here last Monday. Has he been up to anything crooked?"

"I don't know, said Clara; "it may help to settle that if you will tell me what were the circumstances of his call here."

O'Brien hesitated.

"I don't want to get tangled up in any police business, " he declared; "Billings was said to be the man who drove the gent that skipped on his wedding day early this week."

"Yes," said Clara; "lam Miss Hilman, and 1