he police agent Rostoy, representing me as an inspector in the
secret police of the Russian Empire.

Wearing my pilot's dress, but carrying these and other papers in my
pocket, I presented myself at Finkelstein's office, and asked to see
him.

I was shown in first, as I had expected, to Finkelstein's secretary,
who asked me my business.

"I can tell that only to the Herr Superintendent himself," I said.

"If you will let him know that I have just come from Petersburg, I am
sure he will receive me."

The secretary seemed to think so too. He went straight into his
chief's room and came out immediately to fetch me in.

As soon as I found myself alone with the head of the German service,
I said quietly,

"I have brought you a message from M. Petrovitch."

"Petrovitch!" exclaimed the Superintendent, surprised out of his
usual caution. "But he is dead!"

"You have been misinformed," I replied in an assured tone.

Finkelstein looked at me searchingly.

"My informant does not often make mistakes," he observed.

"The Princess is deceived this time, however," was my retort.

It was a fresh surprise for the Superintendent.

"The Princess! Then you know?" He broke off short, conscious that he
was making an admission.

"The Princess Y---- having left Petersburg, it was natural to suppose
that she had come here to consult you," I answered modestly, not
wishing to appear too well informed.

Finkelstein frowned.

"You have not yet told me who you are," he reminded me.

I produced the forged papers.

"I am an inspector attached to the Third Section, as you will see. I
must inform you, however, that I am not here with the knowledge of my
superiors."

The German gave a glance at the papers, which were similar to others
which he must have had presented to him from time to time.

"That is all satisfactory," he said, as he returned them to me. "But
you say that you have a message from M. Petrovitch?"

"He had no opportunity of giving me any but this," I responded,
producing the passport.

This time Finkelstein seemed really satisfied.

"It is clear that you know something about him, at least," he
remarked. "I will listen to what you have to say."

"M. Petrovitch is confined in Schluesselburg."

The name of the dreaded fortress, the last home of so many political
prisoners, caused Finkelstein a shock.

"_Gott im Himmel!_ You don't say so! How did he get there? Tell me
everything."

"He does not know from