? Could she ever feel so entirely an American again?

All at once Nona Davis jumped hastily to her feet. There were hundreds
of questions she yearned to ask. Fortunately for her she was near the
one person who might be able to answer them. Sonya Valesky had never
said why she had not sought to find her friend's daughter until their
accidental meeting on shipboard. Even then she had not recognized Nona's
connection with the past. Was it because she was too engrossed in her
own life and her own mysterious mission?

Although she was at this instant engaged in putting on her coat and cap
to go to her, Nona again hesitated. How little the Russian woman had
said of herself! What was she doing here near the Russian line of
fortifications, living like a peasant with only two old peasants in
attendance upon her? And why should the young Russian officer have
warned her against his own friend?

"Michael Orlaff." Automatically Nona Davis repeated the name of her new
acquaintance. "Orlaff." The name was the same as her mother's. Was there
a chance that the young Russian lieutenant might be a possible
connection?

However, the girl recognized that she was stupid to continue to ask
herself questions. Moreover, she had now made up her mind that she must
not distrust Sonya Valesky unless she had a more definite cause.
Doubtless Sonya shared the same views of life that her mother had
cherished! But in any case it was wonderful to have found a woman who
had been her mother's friend and who might still be hers.

Nona had walked across her small room to the door, when she heard some
one knocking.

A summons had been sent for her to return to her nursing, as the two
hours of her recreation were over. How stupid she had been! Actually
Nona had forgotten what had called her to Russia, even the war tragedy
that was raging about her. Of course she could not leave the hospital!
It might be several days or more before she could hope to receive
permission to revisit Sonya.

CHAPTER VI

_The Arrest_

Five days later Nona Davis went again to the little wooden house, where,
to her surprise, she had previously discovered a former acquaintance.

But on this occasion Sonya Valesky did not open the door.

Instead it was opened by the old peasant man whom Nona had seen before.

Today he looked more wretched than stupid. His little black eyes were
red rimmed, his sallow skin more wrinkled than ever.

When Nona inquired for Sonya he s