the fact that my opponent was striving
with all his might to force me in a certain direction, and I correctly
conjectured that he had been able to discover the location of the sword
and was making an attempt to reach it. So I bent my energies to
avoiding his effort. My life had been largely one of adventure, and I
had taken part in many combats, but never before in one like this where
it was simply a matter of endurance, where neither party to the fray
was suffering injury, and where the hope of success was so evenly
divided. Odd as it may seem, while pinioning him thus so that he could
not act on the offensive, I began to conjecture how long we might hold
out, and the probability of assistance arriving to end it; and it was
the uncertainty of the nature of that assistance that concerned me
most.

I have said that there were not half a dozen confessed nihilists
remaining at liberty in St. Petersburg, but there were hundreds, ay,
thousands of nihilistic sympathizers, and there were hundreds of others
who had become allied to the nihilists in some extrinsic way, who were
in sympathy with the order, even if only passively so. If one or more
of such were to happen along the assistance would surely be upon the
side of my enemy, and certain defeat and death would be my portion. If
a mere citizen were to interfere, the captain who still wore his
uniform, would secure the proffered aid, not I. He would be believed,
not I, and hence I understood that whatever advantage there might be in
the way of interference, was on his side. Appreciating these facts, I
exerted my strength to the utmost to turn the tide of battle in my
favor, but I could accomplish nothing. He was as strong as I, though
not more powerful, and so I relapsed again into the mere effort to hold
him helpless, and to take the chances of wearing him out before
assistance should come.

It seemed to me as though an hour passed thus; in reality, it may have
been only a few moments, for minutes are long under such circumstances;
and then there came an interruption--and a strange one.

"With whom are you struggling, Captain Durnief?" I heard a voice say.

"Zara!" I exclaimed, before Durnief could reply.

"With an assassin who has shot our horses, murdered the _yemschik_, and
who would assassinate you, princess," panted Durnief.

"Zara!" I called to her again. "It is I--Dubravnik."

I heard her gasp, and although I could not see her, I was conscious
that she delibe