Eustace Medlicott gasped with astonishment. This Russian gentleman
was evidently in need of his ministrations and perhaps advice. He
would go to his room, certainly, there were still some people in
the hall having late coffee and refreshment after the theater.

He indicated by a condescending movement that he was ready to
follow the waiting servant, and soon found himself being shown
into Count Roumovski's sitting-room. It was luxuriously appointed
and represented every appearance of manly comfort. There were
quantities of books and papers about and the smell of excellent
cigars, and put carelessly aside were various objets d'art which
antique dealers had evidently sent for his grand seigneur's
approval.

Count Roumovski was standing by the mantelpiece and looked very
tall and commanding in his evening dress.

"It is most good of you to come," he said, while he indicated a
big arm-chair for his visitor to sit in--he did not offer to shake
hands. "It was certainly my duty to have called upon you, my only
apology for getting you to ascend here is that the subject I wish
to converse with you is too serious for both of us to admit of
interruptions."

"Indeed," said Mr. Medlicott, pompously--growing more surprised
each moment. "And may I ask the nature of your trouble?"

Count Roumovski did not change his position by the mantelpiece and
he kept still as a bronze statue as he spoke in a courteous tone: