meone had been listening in the
next cell, and the girl had seen him. He sprang upon a bench and peered
through, in time to see the man vanish beyond the angle of his vision.
Malinkoff was lighting his last cigarette.

"My friend," he said, "I have an idea that in the early hours of the
morning you and I will go the same way as the unfortunate priest."

"What makes you think so?" asked Malcolm quickly.

"Not only do I, but the Grand Duchess thinks so also," said Malinkoff.
"Possibly this is news."

Again the door was opened, and this time it was an officer of the Red
Guard who appeared. He had evidently been chosen because of his
knowledge of English.

"I want the thief," he said tersely in that language.

"That sounds remarkably like me," said Cherry.

He put on his Derby hat slowly and went forth in his shirt-sleeves. They
watched him through the window being taken across the courtyard and
through the archway which led to the prison offices and the outer gate.

"They haven't released him, I suppose?" asked Malcolm, and Malinkoff
shook his head.

"He is to be interrogated," he said. "Evidently there is something which
Boolba wants to know about us, and which he believes this man will
tell."

Malcolm was silent, turning matters over in his mind.

"He won't tell anything that will injure us," he said.

"But the man is a crook," said Malinkoff; "that is the word, isn't it?"

"That's the word," agreed Malcolm grimly, "but he's also a man of my own
race and breed, and whilst I would not trust him with my pocket-book--or
I should not have trusted him before I came in here--I think I can trust
him with my life, supposing that he has my life in his hands."

In twenty minutes Cherry Bim was back, very solemn and mysterious until
the gaoler was gone. Then he asked:

"Who is Israel Kensky, anyway?"

"Why?" asked Malcolm quickly.

"Because I'm going to make a statement about him--a written statement,"
he said cheerfully. "I'm going to have a room all to myself," he spoke
slowly as though he were repeating something which he had already told
himself, "because I am not a quick writer. Then I am going to tell all
that she said about Israel Kensky."

"You can tell that in a second," said Malcolm sternly, and the little
man raised a lofty hand.

"Don't get up in the air."

"Why have they sent you back now?"

"To ask a question or two," said Cherry.

He put on his coat, examined the interior of his hat though