ee you again. Possibly I may have to destroy myself and all here.
Go!"

I obeyed precisely, and had not fairly reached the yard's end when
Verbitzsky, running very silently, came up beside me.

"I think they must be still fancying that I'm standing over them," he
chuckled. "No, they are shooting! Now, out they come!"

From where we now stood in shadow we could see Nolenki and his men
rush furiously out from under the bridge. They ran away from us toward
the freight-sheds, shouting the alarm, while we calmly walked home to
our unsuspected lodgings.

Not till then did I think of the bombs.

"Where are they?" I asked in alarm.

"I left them for the police. They will ruin Nolenki--it was he who
sent poor Zina to Siberia and her death."

"Ruin him?" I said, wondering.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They were not loaded."

"Not loaded!"

"That's what Boris whispered to me in the wool-shed office. He meant
to load them to-morrow before going to His Imperial Majesty's train.
Nolenki will be laughed to death in Moscow, if not sent to Siberia."

Verbitzsky was right. Nolenki, after being laughed nearly to death,
was sent to Siberia in disgrace, and we both worked in the same gang
with him for eight months before we escaped from the Ural Mines. No
doubt he is working there yet.

THE END.

* * * * *

_JUST ISSUED_....

=ETCHINGS=
FROM A
=PARSONAGE VERANDA=
BY
MRS. E. JEFFERS GRAHAM
Illustrated by J. W. BENGOUGH

=CLOTH,--$1.00=

=Contents=: THE PARSONAGE--SOLOMON WISEACRE--TWO WOMEN--MARION
FULLER--JACOB WHINELY--CARLO--A PENSIONER--MRS TAFFETY--THE KNIGHT AND
THE DOVE--A CROSS--UNDER A CLOUD--JOY IN THE MORNING--A SUPPLY--ONLY A
CHILD--MISS PRIMPERTY--A TEMPERANCE MEETING--A DINNER PARTY--AU
REVOIR--PARTING.

The following words from the closing sketch of this charming book are
representative of the spirit and style of the whole: "The moon is
shining in calm majesty. Her children, the stars, are laughing and
twinkling around her. Earth's children are sleeping, carousing and
suffering. I am writing in the moonlight. I am so glad we have lived
here--so happy that we have known all these good, heroic, sweet
characters. We need not read novels to find heroes. They are living
all around us. We are talking to them every day. They pass us on the
street, they sit by us in the church and hall. There is no historian
to write of them, only a book of remembrance in heaven, where all