"I know him," he said grimly, "also I know you, Sophia. I have seen you often at the meetings of our society in Kieff."
Again she frowned, trying to recall his name and where she had seen him. It was not at any of the meetings of the secret society—of that she was sure. He seemed to read her thoughts, for he laughed—a deep, thunderous laugh which filled the underground room with sound.
"It is strange that you do not know me," he said, "and yet I have seen you a hundred times, and you have seen me."
A light dawned on her.
"Boolba, the buffet-schek of the Grand Duke!" she gasped.
He nodded, absurdly pleased at the recognition.
"I do not attend the meetings in Kieff, little sister, for reasons which you will understand. But here in London, where I have come in advance of Yaroslav, it is possible. Now, Sophia Kensky, you are a proved friend of our movement?"
She nodded, since the statement was in the way of a question.
"It is known to you, as to us, that your father, Israel Kensky, is a friend of the Grand Duchess."
Boolba, the President, saw the sullen look on her face and drew his own conclusions, even before she explained her antipathy to the young girl who held that exalted position.