are: or at least I know you are going to call yourself English, though you haven't told me what your name is to be. But I know that you are my brother Alexis, going to leave me perhaps for ever, and that when I want to scold you for running this risk—for you know there are police, and soldiers, and spies in plenty to identify you—you...." here she made as if to throw herself into my arms. But suspecting some trick, I stepped back.

"I know that you are my brother, Alexis."

"Madam, I must ask you to be good enough not to play this comedy any farther." I spoke rather sternly.

"If your disguise were only as good as your acting, Alexis, not a soul in Russia would suspect you. Oh, I see what you mean," she cried, a look of intelligence breaking over her features. "I forgot. Of course, I am compromising your disguise by thus speaking to you. I am sorry. It was my love for you made me thoughtless, when I should have been thoughtful. I will go away." She turned on me such a look of genuine grief that it melted my scepticism.

"There is really some strange mistake," I said, speaking much more gently. "At first I thought you were intentionally mistaking me for someone else; for what object I knew not. But I see now the error was involuntary. I give you my honour, Madam, that you are under a complete mistake if you take me for any relative of your own. I am an Englishman, as I say, and I arrived in Moscow only last night, and am leaving for St Petersburg by the next express train. I am afraid, if you persist in your mistake, it may have unpleasant consequences for you. Hence my plain speech. But I am what I say."

As I finished, I raised my hat and stood that she might convince herself of her blunder.

She looked at me with the most careful scrutiny, even walking round to get a view of my figure. Then she came back and looked into my face again; and I could see that she was still unconvinced.

"It is impossible," she said, under her breath. "If I allow for the difference your beard and moustache would make, you are my brother."

"I am Hamylton Tregethner," I said, and I took out my pocket-book and shewed her my passport to Paris, Vienna, Moscow, "and travelling on the Continent."

"These things can be bought—or made," she said. Then she seemed to understand how she had committed herself with me, if I were really a stranger, and I saw her look at me with fear, doubt, and speculation on her pretty expressive face.

She sighed and lifted her hands as if in half despair.

"Madam, you have my word as an Englishman that not a syllable of what you have said shall pass my lips." The bright glance of gratitude she threw me inspired me to add:—"If I can be of any help in this matter, you may command me absolutely."

She gave me a little stiff look, and I thought I had offended her: but the next moment a light of eagerness took its place.

"When are you leaving?" she asked with an indifference I could see was assumed.

"By the St Petersburg express at 6 o'clock."

"That is two hours after the Smolensk train." She paused to think and glanced at me once, as if weighing whether she dare ask me something. Then she said quickly:—"Will you give me a couple of hours of your company on this platform and in the station this afternoon?"

It was a strange sort of request and when I saw how anxiously she awaited my reply I could perceive she had a strong motive: and one that had certainly nothing to do with any desire for my company.

Then suddenly I guessed her motive. The cunning little woman! Her brother was obviously going to fly from Moscow. She saw that inasmuch as she herself had mistaken me for him, others would certainly do so; and thus, if she and I were together, the brother would get away unsuspected and would be flying from Moscow while he would be thought to be still walking about the station with his sister. I liked the idea, and the girl's pluck on behalf of her brother.

"I will give you not only two hours," I said, "but two days, or two weeks, if you like—if you will tell me candidly what your reason is."

She started at this and saw by my expression that I had guessed her very open secret.

"If you will walk with me outside, I will do that," she said. "I am a very poor diplomatist." With that we went out on to the platform and commenced a conversation that had momentous results for us all.

She told me quite frankly that she wished me to act as a cover for her brother's flight.

"No harm can come to you. You will only have to prove your identity—otherwise I should not have asked this," she said, apologetically. And then to excuse herself, she added, "And I should have told you, even if you had not asked me."

I believed in her sincerity now, and I told her so in a roundabout way. Then I said:—"I am in earnest in saying that I will stay on in Moscow for a day or two if you wish. I have nothing whatever to do, and if the affair should bring me in conflict with anyone, I should like it. I can't tell you all my reasons, as that would mean telling you a biggish slice of my life; but feel assured that if there's likely to be any adventure in it from which some men might shrink, it would rather attract me than otherwise. But if you care to tell me the reasons of your brother's flight, I will breathe no word of them to a soul, and I may be of help." I began to scent an adventure in it, and the perfume pleased me.

My words set her thinking deeply, and we took two or three turns up and down before she answered.

"No, you mustn't stop over to-day," she said, slowly. Then she added thoughtfully:—"I don't know what Alexis would say to my confiding in you; but I should dearly like to." She turned her face to me and looked long and searchingly into my eyes. Then smiled slightly—a smile of confidence. "I feel I can trust you. I will risk it and tell you. My brother is flying because a man in his regiment"—here her eyes shone and her cheeks coloured to a deep red—"has fastened a quarrel on him. He has—has tried to—well, he has worried me and I don't like him"—the blush was of indignation now—"and because of this he has picked a quarrel with Alexis; and to-morrow—means to kill him in that form of barbarous assassination you men call duelling. He knows he is infinitely more skilful than poor Alexis, and that my dear brother is no match for him with either sword or pistol; and he will drag him out to-morrow, and either shoot or stab him."

The tears overflowed here, and made the eyes look more bright and beautiful than ever.

"Why didn't your brother refuse to fight?"

"How could he?" she asked despairingly. "He would have been a marked man—a coward. And this wretch would have triumphed over him. And he knows this, because he offered to let Alexis off, if I—if I—Oh, would that I were a man!" she cried, changing the note of indignant grief for anger.

"Do you mean he has made such an offer as this since the challenge passed?"

"Yes, my brother came and told me. But I could not do it. And now this has come."

I didn't think very highly of the brother, but he had evidently talked his sister round. What I thought of most was the chance of a real adventure which the thing promised.

The man must be a bully and a scoundrel, and it would serve him right to give him a lesson. If this girl had not recognised me, perhaps he would not. I felt that I should like to try. There was no reason why I should not. I could easily spare a couple of days for the little drama, and go on to St Petersburg afterwards.

"You are very anxious for your brother's safety?" I asked.

"He is my only protector in the world. If he gets away now to Berlin or Paris, I shall follow and go to him."