Mr. Harley went quoting his friend Storri; he had that titled Slav to
dinner, when the latter became as much the favorite with Mrs.
Hanway-Harley as he was with her ruder spouse.

Storri saw Dorothy; and was set burning with a love for her that, if the
flame were less pure, was as instant and as devouring as the love to
sweep over Richard upon the boot-heel evening when he caught her in his
arms. Storri forgot himself across table, and his onyx eyes were riveted
upon Dorothy as though their owner were enthralled.

Dorothy felt at once flattered and repelled. She was interested, even
while she shuddered; it was as though she had been made the object of
the sudden, if venomous, admiration of a king-cobra.

"My friend," purred Storri, one afternoon when he and Mr. Harley were
alone, "my good friend, I will no longer refrain from taking you into my
confidence; and when I say that, you are to understand, also, into the
confidence of my Czar."

Storri rested his head in his hand a moment, and seemed to ponder the
propriety of what he was about. Mr. Harley said nothing, but sat
a-fidget with curiosity. It is not given every American to be taken, via
a Count with estates on the Caspian, into the confidence of a Czar.

"Yes, into the confidence of my Czar," repeated Storri. "See now, my
friend, I will lay bare my soul to you. I am resolved you shall be with
me in my vast adventure. With you--who are practical--who have business
genius--my dreams will become realities. Without you, I--who am a mere
poet of finance--an artist of commerce--would fail. I have genius to
conceive; I cannot carry out. But you--you, my dear friend, are what you