w him
crossing the dark roadway of the Boulevard des Philosophes. He had a
broad-brimmed soft hat, and the collar of his coat turned up. I watched
him make straight for the house, but, instead of going in, he stopped
opposite the still lighted windows, and after a time went away down a
side-street.

I knew that he had not been to see Mrs. Haldin yet. Miss Haldin told
me he was reluctant; moreover, the mental condition of Mrs. Haldin
had changed. She seemed to think now that her son was living, and she
perhaps awaited his arrival. Her immobility in the great arm-chair in
front of the window had an air of expectancy, even when the blind was
down and the lamps lighted.

For my part, I was convinced that she had received her death-stroke;
Miss Haldin, to whom, of course, I said nothing of my forebodings,
thought that no good would come from introducing Mr. Razumov just then,
an opinion which I shared fully. I knew that she met the young man on
the Bastions. Once or twice I saw them strolling slowly up the main
alley. They met every day for weeks. I avoided passing that way during
the hour when Miss Haldin took her exercise there. One day, however,
in a fit of absent-mindedness, I entered the gates and came upon her
walking alone. I stopped to exchange a few words. Mr. Razumov failed to
turn up, and we began to talk about him--naturally.

"Did he tell you anything definite about your brother's activities--his
end?" I ventured to ask.

"No," admitted Miss Haldin, with some hesitation. "Nothing definite."

I understood well enough that all their conversations must have been
referred mentally to that dead man who had brought them together. That
was unavoidable. But it was in the living man that she was interested.
That was unavoidable too, I suppose. And as I pushed my inquiries
I discovered that he had disclosed himself to her as a by no means
conventional revolutionist, contemptuous of catchwords, of theories, of
men too. I was rather pleased at that--but I was a little puzzled.

"His mind goes forward, far ahead of the struggle," Miss Haldin
explained. "Of course, he is an actual worker too," she added.

"And do you understand him?" I inquired point-blank.

She hesitated again. "Not altogether," she murmured.

I perceived that he had fascinated her by an assumption of mysterious
reserve.

"Do you know what I think?" she went on, breaking through her reserved,
almost reluctant attitude: "I think that he is observi