ing in common' to say to me
sounds interesting. I am at your service."

"It concerns the daily letters which you cable from here to London on
behalf of the newspaper to which you are attached," Domiloff said,
slowly.

"Indeed," Brand answered. "I am flattered that you should have
troubled to read them."

"From a literary point of view," Domiloff admitted, "they are
admirable. Politically I regret to say that we find them mischievous."

Brand laughed scornfully.

"Perhaps you are not altogether an impartial judge," he remarked.
"Will you proceed, please?"

"Those letters, I am afraid, must be discontinued," Domiloff said.

Brand stared at him.

"Don't talk rubbish," he exclaimed. "'Must be discontinued,' indeed!
Why, I consider your objection to them the highest compliment which I
could possibly receive. As if anything which you could say would make
me alter my views."

Domiloff smiled. It was a very faint, but a very evil smile.

"It is not," he protested, "what I might say, but what I might do. I
take it for granted that either the Duke of Reist or the Countess has
spoken with you on this matter, and I will not therefore waste my
breath. It is sufficient to tell you this! Your present attitude is
harmful to what we consider the best interests of Theos. You must
either undertake to send no more cables or remain here as our
prisoner."

Brand glanced towards the Countess, and in his eyes there was a
merciless inquisitive light.

"So I am in a nest of conspirators," he remarked, dryly. "There is no
longer any doubt about it. I do not know, Baron Domiloff, what magic
you use to pervert honest men, but your success is certainly
astounding. Now let me pass."

With a quick movement his revolver flashed out, and Domiloff was
covered. Perfectly self-possessed, the Russian bowed, and stood away
from the door, but Brand reached it only to be confronted by
half-a-dozen naked sabres. The landing was held by a small company of
Russian soldiers.

"For the protection of the Russian Embassy," Baron Domiloff remarked,
sardonically. "Now, Mr. Brand, will you put your revolver away, and
listen to reason?"

Brand turned to Marie. He was white with rage.

"Countess," he demanded. "I entered this room at your invitation. Was
this arranged for? Is this a trap of your setting?"

A little cry of pain broke from her lips. She recovered herself almost
immediately.

"Did I know," she asked, "that you were coming?"

He wa