hought the Comrades were sure to get him in the end.
Then a wonderful thing happened. The train Stephen took, after his visit
to me, was wrecked. Everybody in the car with Stephen was killed except
himself. An idea came to Stephen. He put a silver cigarette-case with
his name on it into the pocket of a man burnt past recognition--a man of
about his own size. Then he crept away and hid for many days. When he
hoped it might be fairly safe, he wrote to me, knowing I mourned for him
as dead. He asked if I'd risk going with him to Russia to begin a new
life there under another name. Of course I said 'Yes.'

"I left the school, and some jewellery I had kept us going for a while
till there was a ship we could take for Japan, and so get back to
Russia. We'd have to sail from San Francisco, so presently we went to
Oakland, travelling at night by local trains. We hoped in that way we
should not be seen by any one we knew.

"Whether someone did see us or not, I can't tell. Anyhow, from the day
Stephen left me to buy our cabins on the ship I've never seen him again.
He was kidnapped by the gang; and then began my martyrdom. They gave me
a week of suspense. Then I got a letter. It told me that Stephen had
been caught and would be punished by death for his treachery unless I'd
agree to buy his life. I was warned that if I went to the police, it
would be known to them, and Stephen instantly killed. If I consented to
bargain I must put a 'personal' in a San Francisco paper, saying
'Steve's sister says yes'; in that case an appointment would be made
with a man who would tell me what to do to save Stephen.

"Of course, I obeyed. Next day the same paper told 'Steve's Sister'
where to go for instructions, and at what time. I think the man who met
me must have been Schmelzer himself, just back from Europe. He had the
authoritative manner Stephen had spoken of, and a great deal of gesture.
He didn't give himself any name then, but afterward I knew him as
Cheffinsky. To save my brother I had only to get a bundle of papers
which were in the possession of John Heron. They were at Albuquerque in
Mrs. Heron's house. Heron kept them there because he believed no one
would suspect; but a spy the 'Comrades' had hired to act as a gardener
there overheard a conversation, and knew the hiding-place. Unfortunately
he couldn't put his hand on the papers without killing a man to get at
them. For me, it would be simple, because Louis Moreno was in love with