r flogged to death for a trivial offence. That was
burnt into my brain."

He tore open his clothes and showed his naked chest, on which was a
long scar.

"You see that. Boris insulted my sister, a pure and innocent girl,
born on his estate as I was. She told me the story. I borrowed a
sword. I lay in wait for him in the woods one night. I challenged him
to fight. I wounded him, thank Heaven, but he got his sword in too and
left me with that scar. You can guess that I have got a big account
against this Prince who swaggers about St. Petersburg and boasts
amongst his intimates that he will dethrone the Czar."

For a few seconds the outlaw paused, struggling to regain his
composure, which the recital of his wrongs had so disturbed.

"After that incident, you will guess there was no safety for me,
Signor. It was no longer possible for me to remain on this villain's
estate," he resumed. "I wandered forth to embrace a life of crime--to
become a thief, a bandit, a marauder. But, as Heaven is my judge, my
guilt lies at his door."

"You spoke of repaying a debt, Ivan," interjected Corsini, with a view
of recalling the unhappy man from these troublous and disturbing
memories. "And if not to-night, very shortly. I don't know that I very
much desire repayment. What I did was out of feelings of humanity.
Some people might say misplaced humanity. But what I did that night I
should do again to-morrow if we were both in the same position."

The big, bearded man regained his calmness, and spoke in slow,
measured tones. "I have seen your portrait in the newspapers, Signor,
and so was able to give a name to my preserver. It is in my power to
put you in possession of an important secret that will bring great
distinction to you, when you impart it to the proper quarters. In
return you will secure for me a full pardon. I am not asking too
exorbitant a price; I am sure you will admit that."

"It is a secret, I can guess, concerning the man whom you describe as
our common enemy, Prince Boris Zouroff."

Ivan nodded his big head. "Listen! I have many friends in St.
Petersburg, most of them certainly not of a reputable class. But I
have one friend, quite a decent and honest fellow, born like myself on
the Prince's estates. His name is Stepan, and he is in the service of
the well-known opera-singer, popularly known as La Belle Quero."

Corsini started. At first he had felt inclined to pay little heed to
the outlaw's rather wild talk. Ho