them—then the Evil Spirit is confounded and flies in confusion from the possessed one's eyes. Thus did Captain Feodor.

"Ah, yes! It may be—it may, indeed, be so," said the girl resignedly, as she wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron. "Often have I asked myself whether all I have seen and heard is not merely falsehood and deceit. It may be all the devil's work. Oh, would to God it were so! I would bless you every day of my life for driving the curse out of me. But, Master, I beseech you, cross the threshold of that hut and look within. If you see nothing, then the Evil One has indeed been at his juggling tricks with me, making me see and speak the things that are not."

Feodor stepped into the tumble-down hut to which Mashinka had pointed. The first thing that met his gaze was his little son lying on a heap of dirty straw. The little shirt had slipped down over one shoulder, and upon this the mark of the branding-iron was clearly seen. Feodor knelt down, buried his face in the straw beside the boy, and clasped him in his arms. But he uttered no cry and shed no tear.

"Why, my good Master," said the girl, "surely you, too, have become possessed, and see things that do not exist."

Meantime the child did not cry. He trembled violently; for fear, and pain, and fever were working together. The father wrapped him in his cloak, and laid him tenderly across his knees.

"Now listen," said Mashinka, "to all that the Evil One must have put into my eyes and ears, if, indeed, it is all nothing but his black magic. Your own steward had orders to bring all your treasure in a great iron chest along with the child to Tsarskoye Selo. Your brother and your wife were already in St. Petersburg—together. The treasure was to be divided among I know not how many of the high court officials. Your wife, of course, fell to the informer's portion, and the child was sent off later in order to be transported to the Urals along with you. As the boy begged most piteously for me I was allowed to travel along with him. He cried during the whole journey with the pain caused by the branding-iron. At last the steward could no longer bear his constant moaning in the carriage, and ordered me to get down and gather some poppy-heads in the field, so that I might make an infusion of them and put the child to sleep. So I gathered a great many poppy-heads and made them into a good strong tea at our next stopping-place. But I did not give it to the boy to drink. I mixed it among the brandy which the steward, the driver, and the Cossacks were drinking, and it was not long before their heads were nodding under it.

"I then took the keys of the iron chest from the steward's pocket, flung him out of the troïka and the driver after him, seized the reins and drove off with the boy. But when the Cossacks had become a little sober they came galloping after us. When I saw that we must soon be overtaken, I opened the treasure-chest took out great handfuls of gold and silver, and flung them on the road. Of course, they could not let stuff of that kind lie, and by the time they had scraped it all together we were far away over hill and dale. On reaching the forest of Pleskov the middle horse became lame, and I saw that I could not hope to save both the money and the child. I should have had to sacrifice either one or other. So I told the boy to clasp me tightly round the neck, and away we fled together across the steppe. I had previously turned the horses loose with the troïka. No doubt the Cossacks overtook the carriage with all the treasure. But I brought the child here through the forests and across the moors, for I knew that you would land here when you returned from the sea. But you are not angry with me, Master, for bringing only the boy with me instead of all the gold?"

As yet not a tear had risen to the rugged seaman's eyes. He sat staring with frenzied look at the cruel brand upon his son's shoulder. But suddenly, as Mashinka finished speaking, a flood of hot tears burst from the father's eyes. He wiped them away. The white handkerchief was stained with crimson spots. He held it up before the girl's eyes.

"Remember!" he exclaimed in hollow tones, "once in your life you saw a man weep tears of blood."

"Now," he added sternly, after a pause, "take the boy in your arms and follow me."

"But whither are you going, Master?" asked the girl.

"Back again to the sea."

When Captain Von Ungern, with his child and Mashinka, regained the deck of his vessel, the Gladova Strela, he found the plenipotentiary of the Admiralty already on board. That official was charged with the ukase depriving Feodor of his rank, and appointing his brother Zeno to the post of frigate-captain in his place. The crew were looking on in gloomy silence, ready for any turn which events might take.

"Throw both ukase and messenger into the sea!" shouted Feodor.

The order was exactly to the mind of the crew, and right promptly did they execute it.

"And now," he called out, "which of you will come with me wherever I may go?"

"We will all go with you against Hell itself!" shouted the men.

"Nay, my men; against the powers of Hell we will never fight, but only against those of Heaven and Earth. Henceforth we will league ourselves with all the fiends of Darkness and the Storm!"

The weather was tempestuous and the sea was running high. Not until the following day did the Admiralty decide to pursue the vessel which had vanished so suddenly in full sail. It was then too late to overtake her.

It was shortly afterwards that the sad news reached St. Petersburg that the fugitive vessel had run upon the rocks of Dago. Her mainmast and bowsprit were all that was ever picked up, so it was plain to all men that the Gladova Strela, with her fifty men and seven guns, had gone to the bottom. So after all, men said, things had perhaps happened as they ought. At all events, the name of Captain Feodor Von Ungern was utterly forgotten.

CHAPTER III
The Observatory

It was in the following spring that the lofty tower arose on the promontory of the Isthmus of Dago. The building was quite unnoticed except by the inhabitants of the island. The ordinary track of vessels was then far distant from the spot.

At that time the island of Dago still belonged to Finland. Although under Swedish rule, it formed a small republic standing by itself, in whose internal affairs no one interfered. The governor of the island had, of course, made inquiries regarding the inhabitants of the tower, and had learnt that they were foreign seamen, whose vessel had been wrecked in the neighbourhood. Their commander was reported to be a most cultured gentleman, capable of conversing fluently in Latin as well as in Dutch. He had purchased the whole of the waste promontory from the authorities of the island with hard cash, and had then had the stupendous edifice built by his own men and in accordance with his own plans. When it was completed the whole company lived together in the tower. How many of them there might be was never exactly known, for they never showed themselves outside their fortress walls. But what, it was often asked, could be the occupation of the men within? That, however, was a mystery to the islanders.

But the mystery of mysteries was: What did the