"Now," said he, "let me conduct you to a room where you can rest and
sleep, undisturbed and undiscovered." After climbing a ladder and
walking through a narrow passage, they came to a secret door which
opened into a bedroom. Alfred Banford looked about him, and was startled
when he saw in a mirror the reflection of such a pale, hungry-looking
visage and such tattered clothes.

Pity was plainly written in Vosky's kind face, but all he said was:
"Stay here and recuperate. To my sorrow, I must leave you for a little
while in order to transact some urgent business; but I will instruct my
valet to provide you with every possible comfort. Everything in this
house stands at your service."

Alfred Banford ventured to ask whether it would be perfectly safe to
remain, for he feared that Russian soldiers might capture him and that
he would be sent to Siberia.

"I give you my word," said Vosky. "You will be as safe here as the Czar
is in his Castle. Give me your word of honor to remain until my return.
I will then devise means to help you reach your country. But I must be
off now. Take good care of yourselves." And hurriedly he closed the door
behind him.

Alfred Banford marveled at the friendliness and goodness of this strange
man who had come to his rescue so unexpectedly and so opportunely, like
an angel from heaven. "It seems like awakening from a dream, to find
myself transported from an icy field to a warm, cozy room," said he. "It
borders on the miraculous--I cannot fathom it." But sleep was fast
overpowering him. He had lain for so long on straw, on icy ground, and