ult to Holy Russia.

Stolypin was but one of many persons of both sexes who, because they knew
too much of Germany's secret propaganda in Russia, fell victims in those
constant conspiracies whereby they were swept either into the net of the
corrupt police or into their graves.

As servant of the head of Russia's "Dark Forces"--as Rasputin and
Protopopoff were afterwards denounced in the Duma--I was compelled to be
ever at the saint's elbow; hence I saw and heard much that was
astounding.

One night, a few months after Stolypin's assassination, we had been
bidden to dinner by the great Polish landowner Ivan Volkhovski, who had a
beautiful villa outside Petrograd. There I met a smart, middle-aged
Russian officer, who, over our champagne, declared to me that things were
growing critical in Europe over the Balkan question, but that France and
Russia were united against any attack that Germany might secretly
engineer.

"Then you think that war is really coming?" I asked him in surprise.

"Think!" he echoed. "You are a cosmopolitan, surely! Don't you know? Are
you really blind?"

"Well, I am blind politically," I replied with a wink. "I see that on all
sides people are getting rich quickly and receiving ironmongery--as I
call the tin decorations from the Sovereign--as reward for closing their
eyes to the true facts."

"Ah! I see that you are quite wideawake, my dear Rajevski," said the
officer, whose name was Colonel Dubassoff. "Our friends here in Petrograd
will continue to remain asleep, for they have every incentive, thanks to
the great pro-German propaganda and the generous distribution of German
gold. To-day our enemies in Berlin have their hands outstretched and
clutching upon Paris, New York, Rome and London, just as they have here
in Petrograd. War must come--depend upon it. The English Lord Roberts has
forecast it. He knows!"

"Then you believe that Germany is at work actively arming in preparation
for war?"

"Most certainly I do," replied the colonel. "Only a month ago I was in
London and afterwards in Paris. In London the authorities are not so
entirely asleep as we are in Russia."

Suddenly, as he spoke, I noticed that Rasputin, who was in whispered
conversation with Bishop Theophanus, a fellow-guest, had been listening
very attentively.

Two hours later, when I returned home with Rasputin, he ordered me to sit
down and write a note, which the scoundrel dictated as follows:

"Please listen to