ng the rabid conspirators in tones of deadly
earnestness. His heart gave a bound. It was the first time since his
incarceration that he had heard the voice of Olga Platanova, she who had
warned him, she who still must be his friend. Once more he threw himself
to the floor and glued his ear to the crack; her voice had not the
strident qualities of the other women in this lovely company.

"You are not to do this thing," she was saying. King knew that she stood
between her companions and the door. "You are not to touch him! Do you
hear me, Peter Brutus? All of you?"

There followed the silence of stupefaction, broken at last by a voice
which he recognised as that of old man Spantz.

"Olga! Stand aside!"

"No! You shall not torture him. I have said he is no spy. I still say
it. He knows nothing of the police and their plans. He has not been
spying upon us. I am sure of it."

"How can you be sure of it?" cried a woman's voice, harsh and strident.

"He has played with you," sneered another.

"I will not discuss the point. I know he is not what you say he is. You
have no right to torture him. You have no right to hold him prisoner."

"God, girl, we cannot turn him loose now. He must never go free again.
He must die." This was from Spantz.

"We cannot release him, I grant you," she said, and Truxton's heart
sank. "Not now, but afterward, yes. When it is all over he can do no
harm. But, hear me now, all of you. If he is harmed in any way, if he is
maltreated, or if you pursue this design to starve him, I shall not
perform my part of the work on the 26th. This is final."

For a full minute, it seemed to King, no one spoke.

"You cannot withdraw," exclaimed Peter Brutus. "You are pledged. You are
sworn. It is ordained."

"Try me, and see if I will not do as I say. He is to be treated kindly
so long as we hold him here and he is to be released when the committee
is in power. Then he may tell all that he knows, for it will be of no
avail. He cannot escape, that you know. If he were a spy I would offer
no objection to your methods. He is an American gentleman, a traveller.
I, Olga Platanova, say this to you. It is not a plea, not a petition; it
is an ultimatum. Spare him, or the glorious cause must suffer by my
defection."

"Sh! Not so loud, girl! He can hear every word you say!"

"Why should it matter, madam? He is where he can do no harm to our
cause. Let him hear. Let him understand what it is that we are doing.
A