I gazed curiously about the room. There seemed to be a marked touch
of a woman's hand here and there; it was unmistakable. At last my
eye rested on a careless heap of dainty wearing apparel on a chair
in the corner.

"Where is Nevsky?" asked Dr. Kharkoff, apparently missing the person
who owned the garments.

"Ekaterina has gone to a rehearsal of the little play of Gershuni's
escape from Siberia and betrayal by Rosenberg. She will stay with
friends on East Broadway to-night. She has deserted me, and here
I am all alone, finishing a story for one of the American magazines."

"Ah, Professor Kennedy, that is unfortunate," commented Kharkoff.
"A brilliant woman is Mademoiselle Nevsky - devoted to the cause. I
know only one who equals her, and that is my patient downstairs, the
little dancer, Samarova."

"Samarova is faithful - Nevsky is a genius," put in Kazanovitch.
Kharkoff said nothing for a time, though it was easy to see he
regarded the actress highly.

"Samarova," he said at length to us, "was arrested for her part in
the assassination of Grand Duke Sergius and thrown into solitary
confinement in the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul. They
tortured her, the beasts - burned her body with their cigarettes.
It was unspeakable. But she would not confess, and finally they
had to let her go. Nevsky, who was a student of biology at the
University of St. Petersburg when Von Plehve was assassinated, was