"No, but she will be. She is sent with a gang to the Ekaterinski
Zavad. They are gone already, chained together, and marching through
the snow and the cold. It is thousands of miles. A Countess, who has
undoubtedly never taken a step in her life without a maid--who knows!
She is frail, she won't live to get there."

The room was still for a moment and suddenly a coal fell from the fire
to the hearth with a thud, flaring up. Then it broke into ashes.
Presently the Manager continued:

"She shot the Grand-Duke Stepan, they say. I don't know. The thing
has been hushed up for the sake of Mezkarpin, poor man! The Chief told
me he had had a stroke in the prison and may not recover. The girl
must be a tigress!--Velasco! Are you asleep?--Wake up!--Velasco!"

"What mines did you say, Galitsin?"

"The Ekaterinski Zavad."

"They have started already?"

"Yesterday."

"The Chief told you that?"

"The Chief himself told me."

"Did he mention the route?"

"By the old road through Tobolsk, I dare say, the usual one. Come,
Velasco, don't brood over it!"

"Were they chained?"

The Musician shuddered and moved his limbs uneasily. "Chains,
Galitsin? Fancy, how horrible! How they must clank! It must be
maddening--jingling, rattling with every step--Ah!"

The Manager shrugged his shoulders. "When a woman undertakes to murder
the Grand-Duke Stepan, what else can she expect? Mezkarpin is a friend
of the Tsar, otherwise she would have been hung, or shot!--Why of
course! The Chief said she was utterly brazen about it. She asked
over and over if he were dead, and then said she was glad. Lucky for
you, Velasco, they recognized you, they didn't take you for an
accomplice; you would never have touched a violin again. All the
same--"

He glanced around the Studio again and his voice grew lower: "The Chief
gave warning. You are to leave Russia, he said. Velasco--listen to
me! He said you must leave Russia at once, to-night--do you hear?"

The Manager leaned forward and shook the Musician's shoulder angrily.
"Velasco, do you hear?--If you won't go for your Art, you must go for
your safety.--Do you hear me? You must!"

"I hear you," said Velasco, "You needn't bellow in my ear like a bull!
If I must, I suppose I must. Go and write your letters and leave me in
peace."

"Shall I tell the agents you are coming?"

"Tell them anything you like. Pull me about on wires like a little tin
puppet, and set me down