he slightly
upturned. He had a pallid skin and keen grey eyes. His manner was at
once grave and conciliatory.

"Your memory, Prince," he remarked, "is scarcely so good as mine. I
have had the pleasure of seeing you but once before, yet I think that
I should have recognized you anywhere."

"Oh, would you!" Brand remarked, beneath his breath.

"I will recall myself to your memory," the other continued, blandly.
"My name is Domiloff!"

"Domiloff, of course," Brand echoed. "You are still----"

"Still the representative of Russia to the State of Theos. It is
true."

"And where am I?" Brand asked, looking around the bare, lofty room
with some surprise; "and what am I here for?"

"You are in the House of Customs at Gallona. I met the train at the
frontier to secure the honour of a little conversation with you before
you proceeded to the capital. I found you exceedingly unwell, and took
the liberty of bringing you here that you might have the opportunity
of resting a little before completing your journey."

Brand rose slowly to his feet. He was still giddy, but rapidly
recovering himself. His last distinct recollection was the coffee
which he and the priest had ordered in their _coupe_. There was a
peculiar taste--a swimming in his head--afterwards blank
unconsciousness.

"You have been most considerate, I am sure," he said, slowly. "I am
glad to have your explanation, otherwise my presence here, under the
circumstances, might have suggested unpleasant things to me."

Domiloff's lips parted in an inscrutable smile. He remained silent.

"I might have remembered," Brand continued, "that I was travelling
with two friends. What has become of them?"

Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.

"It was most unfortunate," he declared. "The train pulled up for a
moment at a wayside station, and they appear to have descended--and to
have been left behind."

Brand nodded.

"I might also have remembered," he continued, stroking his moustache
thoughtfully, "a priest whose interest in his fellow-passengers was a
little extraordinary--a cup of coffee pressed upon me, a queer
taste--bah! Why waste time? I was drugged, sir, with your connivance,
no doubt, and brought here. What is the meaning of it?"

Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.

"You assume too much, my dear Prince," he declared, blandly. "Let us
not waste time by fruitless discussion. I will admit that I was
particularly anxious to have a few minutes' quiet conversation wit