this young musician."

"My brother, I regret to say, takes violent dislikes to many people,
for reasons that I have never been able to fathom. But I cannot guess
any motive for enmity against Signor Corsini. In what possible way can
their paths cross?"

"You will, of course, understand, Princess, that I cannot, in every
instance, speak as plainly as I could wish. You may have heard, it is
hardly possible you should not, that for some few years past Prince
Zouroff has been one of my most intimate friends."

Nada bowed her graceful head, while a faint flush rose to the fair
cheek. Of course it was common rumour in St. Petersburg that he was
greatly attracted by the handsome singer and was prepared to marry
her, if her husband could be got out of the way. Such an alliance
would not, naturally, recommend itself to the other members of the
proud and ancient house of Zouroff.

"It would certainly seem a strange thing that their paths should cross
in any way," was Madame Quero's answer. "And here, I am afraid, I dare
not be as explicit as I wish. You must forgive me, Princess, if I
content myself with hints instead of full explanations. I can only
just tell you this: Signor Corsini has discovered a jealously guarded
secret of your brother's. Your brother, therefore, regards him as a
dangerous man, to be got out of his way."

Nada's face went pale as she listened to these rather vague
utterances. Although so young, with a disposition naturally frank and
trusting, she had a very quick intelligence. She thought she could
read between the lines. It was some time before she spoke.

"My brother has a jealously guarded secret which Signor Corsini has
discovered," she repeated slowly. "If he revealed that secret, it
would mean danger to Boris?"

Madame Quero bowed. "At present his knowledge is not very great, but
if he learnt more, it would mean the greatest possible danger to your
brother."

There was no mistaking the sinister meaning behind these words. The
young girl reflected a few moments. Not once, but many times, some
unguarded phrase of the Prince, dropped in one of his frequent rages,
had set her thinking.

"Boris is not, then, exactly what he seems, Madame?"

"Far from it, Princess," replied the singer, speaking with a frankness
that a second later she regretted.

"And perhaps, too, Signor Corsini is not exactly what he seems?"
queried Nada. Intuition was leading her very near the truth.

"Of that I cannot s