that. But----"

"He would be caught in the net with the others. He would suffer the
same fate that fell to them. Are you willing to run the risk of his
being there? He has been to Siberia once, you tell me. Are you willing
that he should go there again?"

"No, oh, no!" she cried. "No; that must not be."

"You see, then, how impossible it is for you to give me a messenger,
unless you can promise for Ivan as well as for yourself."

"Promise? And for Ivan? What promise need I make for him? If he is
there shall he not take his chance with those who are with him? But no,
no. You are right, Dubravnik. I cannot let him be captured, perhaps
killed, in this way," she said brokenly. "I cannot sacrifice Ivan.
Cannot you see how I am suffering? Even though I try with all my
strength to conceal it, can't you see it? Is there not some other way?
Is there not something that can be done? Will you not help me? Great
God! Must my brother be sent back to the hell of Siberia--or must
you----"

"Zara," I interrupted her, deliberately taking a step backwards and
putting my hands behind me, fearing that I might clasp her in my arms
in spite of my resolution to remain calm and to continue to be master
of the situation, "I think there is another way; I believe that
something can be done; I will help you; I do see why you suffer. You
are torn by so many conflicting desires, child; you do not know which
way to turn. Here am I, your lover; out yonder, waiting to kill me, is
your brother. But, dear, if you will trust to me, and will obey me
implicitly in all that I direct you to do, there is a way, and neither
you nor your brother shall come to harm. Will you trust to me?"

"Yes, oh, yes," she cried unhesitatingly. "What am I to do?"

"Call the servant who is to take the message."

She turned to the door without another word, and disappeared beyond it.
The moment she was gone, I took a fountain pen and a pad of paper from
my pocket, and wrote rapidly--or seemed to write, for the pen left no
trace upon the paper.

My invisible note was completed and I was writing with another pen upon
a second sheet of paper when the princess reentered the room. This time
the writing was plainly visible, and while I asked her for an envelope
I passed it to her to read.

It was addressed to my friend Canfield who had charge of the messenger
service, and merely instructed him to "forward the packages that had
been left with him that morning" to their sever