tler turned to the sideboard for a moment, and then came
forward bearing a silver tray on which stood a flagon of cut-glass
and silver with a number of exquisite little silver cups like
egg-shells.

"You will not refuse to taste our Russian national beverage, Mr.
Sterling," the head of the War Syndicate said persuasively, as the
butler began filling the tiny cups.

It was a challenge which I could not refuse without rudeness, though
it struck me as rather out of place that the vodka should be offered
to me before to the imperial guest on my host's right.

The butler filled two cups, M. Petrovitch taking the second from the
tray as I lifted the first to my lips.

"You know our custom," the financier exclaimed smilingly. "No
heeltaps!"

He lifted his own cup with a brave air, and I tossed off the contents
of my own without stopping.

As the fiery liquor ran down my throat I was conscious of something
in its taste which was unlike the flavor of any vodka I had ever
drunk before. But this circumstance aroused no suspicion in my mind.
I confess that it never occurred to me that any one could be daring
enough to employ so crude and dangerous a device as a drugged draft
at a quasi-public banquet, given to an English peace emissary, with a
member of the imperial family sitting at the board.

I was undeceived the next moment. Petrovitch, as soon as he saw that
my cup had been emptied, sat down his own untasted, and, with a
well-acted movement of surprise and regret, turned to the Grand Duke.

"I implore your pardon, sir. I did not ask if you would not honor me
by taking the first cup!"

The Grand Duke, whom I readily acquitted of any share in the other's
design, shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent air.

"If you wish your friends to drink vodka, you should not put
champagne like this before us," he said laughing.

Petrovitch said something in reply; he turned and scolded the butler
as well, I fancy. But my brain was becoming confused. I had just
sufficient command of my faculties left to feign ignorance of the
true situation.

"I am feeling a little faint. That _pate_"--I contrived to murmur.

And then I heard Captain Vassileffsky cry out in an alarm that was
unmistakably genuine--"Look out for the Englishman! He is
swooning"--and I knew no more.

CHAPTER VI

DRUGGED AND KIDNAPPED

My first thought, as my senses began to come back to me, was of the
train which was due to leave Petersburg for M