n for a
moment off his guard. A dead silence had fallen upon the room as the
auditors realized that a game was being played here that was not on the
cards. Peter felt the myriads of eyes staring at him, and beyond them
had a vision of a prostrate figure in the corner of a courtyard, the
blood reddening his blouse under the falling knout. They were all
Michael Kuprins, these foreigners who stared at him, all the grievances
born of centuries of oppression. And as Peter did not speak at once,
Yakimov pursued his advantage.

"I did not come here to tell who this man is," he shouted, "this man who
tells you what liberty is. But you ought to know. It's your right. You
know why Russia rose and threw off the yoke of bondage of centuries. It
was because this man before you who calls himself Peter Nichols and
others like him bound the people to work for him by terrible laws, taxed
them, starved them, beat them, killed them, that he and others like him
might buy jewels for their mistresses and live in luxury and ease, on
the sweat of the labor of the people. And he asks me why I came to
America! It was for a moment such as this that I was sent here to find
him out that I might meet him face to face and confront him with his
crimes--and those of his father--against humanity."

Yakimov paused suddenly in his furious tirade for lack of breath and in
the deathly silence of the room, there was a sudden stir as a rich
brogue queried anxiously of nobody in particular:

"Who in Hell _is_ he, then?"

"I'll tell you who he is," the Russian went on, getting his breath.
"He's one of the last of a race of tyrants and oppressors, the worst
the world has ever known--in Russia the downtrodden. He fled to America
to hide until the storm had blown over, hoping to return and take his
place again at the head of a new government of the Democrats and the
Bourgeoisie--the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch!"

The uproar that filled the room for a moment made speech impossible. But
every eye was turned on Peter now, some in incredulity, some in
malevolence, and some in awe. He saw that it was now useless to deny his
identity even if he had wished to do so, and so he stood squarely on his
feet, staring at Yakimov, who still leaned forward menacingly, shrieking
above the tumult, finally making himself heard.

"And this is the man who dares to talk to you about a brotherhood of
humanity, just laws and equality among men! This tyrant and son of
tyrants, t