I did as I was commanded, and brought to the bedside a small packet of letters secured with crimson ribbon. As I untied the knot a cabinet photograph fell out upon the bed. I picked it up and looked at it.
It was a picture of myself!
“How did you obtain this?” I asked eagerly.
“I have never ceased to think of you,” she replied. “I prevailed upon one of your friends in Petersburg to give me the picture. But there is another photograph there. Take it out and look at it.”
Searching among the papers, I found the picture she indicated.
When I turned it face upwards in the gaslight it almost fell from my grasp, for I recognised it as a portrait of my companion with whom I shared chambers.
“Do you know Kassatkin?” I asked, in astonishment.
“Yes, I do,” she said, and raising herself upon her elbow, she continued earnestly: “Listen, Anton! You are now my husband, although I know I am dying. Nothing can save me, and I shall not live to inflict upon that cursed spy the punishment he deserves. I know——”
“Is he a spy?” I interrupted breathlessly.