“Hush!” she cried. “Although we are strangers, nevertheless our common Cause, the freedom of Russia, unites us.” Then, noticing how perplexed I was over her strangely sensational announcement, she said quickly, “Pray pardon my omission. I ought to have told you my name—Axinïa Pankrátiévna.”
By her manner and conversation I saw she was a political enthusiast, and suspected that she was in England for some reason connected with the operations of the Circle. My curiosity having now been thoroughly aroused, I told her I would do whatever lay in my power to help her.
On alighting at South Kensington, we failed to meet her brother as she expected; but, notwithstanding the fog, we walked together a considerable distance through several quiet thoroughfares, until we came to a large, old-fashioned house, standing in a square.
An elderly man-servant opened the door, and after I had divested myself of my overcoat I was ushered into a small drawing-room, while my fair hostess ascended the stairs.
The moment I entered the house I experienced a vague feeling of regret that I had accepted her invitation. There was something about the place I did not like. The room was dimly lit by one pink-shaded lamp, the furniture had a frowsy, faded appearance, and there was an odour of pastilles that was sickening.
For fully ten minutes I had been patiently awaiting the mysterious Axinïa’s reappearance, when suddenly I experienced a strange dizziness, and at the same time a terrible pain shot across my forehead.
A fit of coughing seized me—my breath came and went in short, quick gasps, and I felt myself choking.
Rising, I walked quickly across the room, and then discovered something that increased my suspicions. Everything was thickly coated with dust. The place had evidently not been used for years!
Halting before the fireplace, and glancing at the fire burning clear and bright, I discovered, to my horror and dismay, that it was of charcoal!
Then it suddenly dawned upon me that I had been entrapped into a lethal chamber!