"Surely," answered Kharkoff.

"You will excuse us, Mr. Kazanovitch," apologised Kennedy briskly,
"but I feel that I am going to have a hard day to-morrow and - by
the way, would you be so kind as to come up to my laboratory some
time during the day, and continue your story."

On the way out Craig took the doctor aside for a moment, and they
talked earnestly. At last Craig motioned to me.

"Walter," he explained, "Dr. Kharkoff is going to prepare some
cultures in the test-tubes to-night so that I can make a microscopic
examination of the blood of Saratovsky, Samarova, and later of his
servant. The tubes will be ready early in the morning, and I have
arranged with the doctor for you to call and get them if you have
no objection."

I assented, and we started downstairs. As we passed a door on the
second floor, a woman's voice called out, "Is that you, Boris?"

"No, Olga, this is Nicholas," replied the doctor. "It is Samarova,"
he said to us as he entered.

In a few moments he rejoined us. "She is no better," he continued,
as we again started away. "I may as well tell you, Professor
Kennedy, just how matters stand here. Samarova is head over heels
in love with Kazanovitch - you heard her call for him just now?
Before they left Paris, Kazanovitch showed some partiality for Olga,
but now Nevsky has captured him. She is indeed a fascinating woman,
but as for me, if Olga would consent to become Madame Kharkoff, it