“Treherne told you the truth about my marriage, Mr. Wynn,” he continued, raising his voice a little, and looking at me with stern, troubled eyes. “Until you spoke of him I had almost forgotten his existence! But he did not know quite everything. The one point on which I and my dear wife were at variance was her connection with this fatal League. Yes, it was in existence then; and I was—I suppose I still am, in a way—a member of it; though I only became one in order that I might protect my wife as far as possible. After she died and I was banished from Russia, I severed myself from it for many years, until a few months ago, when I received a communication to the effect that my wife was still alive; that she had been released and restored to her relatives,—to her brother Stepán, I supposed. He had always hated me, but he loved her well, though he managed to make his escape at the time she was taken.”

“But Stepán Vassilitzi is a young man,—younger than I am,” I interrupted.

“He is the son; the father died some years back, though I only learned that after I returned to Russia. I started at once; that was how you missed me when you came to Berlin. I sent first to the old château near Warsaw, which had been the principal residence of the Vassilitzis. But I found it in possession of strangers; it had been confiscated in ’81, and nothing was known of the old family beyond the name. I wasted several days in futile inquiries and then went on to Petersburg, where I got in communication with some of the League. I had to execute the utmost caution, as you will understand, but I found out that a meeting was to be held at a place I knew of old,—the ruined chapel,—and that Anna Petrovna was to be there,—my wife, as I supposed.

“The rest of that episode you know. The moment I saw Anne brought out I realized, or thought I did, for I am not so sure now, that it was a trap. That big, rough-looking man who carried Anne off—”

“He was the Grand Duke Loris.”

“So I guessed when you spoke of him just now; and at the time I knew, of course, that he was not what he appeared, for he didn’t act up to his disguise.”

“He did when it was necessary!” I said emphatically, remembering how he had slanged the hotel servant that evening at Petersburg.

“Well, he said enough to convince me that I was right, though why he should trouble himself on our behalf I couldn’t imagine.

“We hadn’t gone far when we heard firing, and halted to listen. We held a hurried consultation, and I told him briefly who we were. He seemed utterly astounded; and now I understand why,—he evidently had thought Anne was that other. He decided that we should be safer if we remained in the woods till all was quiet, and then make our way to Petersburg and claim protection at the English Embassy.

“We went on again; Anne was still insensible, and he insisted on carrying her,—till we came to a charcoal burner’s hut. He told us to stay there till a messenger came who would guide us to the road, where a carriage would be in waiting to take us to Petersburg.