“He told me. You are a friend of—Count Ladislas Tuleski?” She said this with just a suspicion of hesitation.

“An intimate friend. Do you know him?”

“Yes—I know him,—oh, yes: I——” she hesitated, glanced at me and stopped.

“He is one of my most intimate friends and one of the best fellows in the world,” I said enthusiastically.

She made no reply, but glanced swiftly at me again and lowered her head.

“I think I can walk now,” she said presently; and I helped her to rise. “I am not hurt, you see. It was only fright and shock.”

“Thank God it was no worse,” I cried. She did[22] not seem to hear this. “Now, what do you wish to do?”

[22]

“I don’t know. What ought I to do? My uncle—do you know the Count was my uncle?—or, rather, not my own uncle, no real blood relation.”

“No, I had no idea.”

“When the trouble came at Warsaw he had to fly, and he was carrying certain papers with instructions to friends of the Fraternity to Cracow. A raid is expected there; and there are papers which threaten us all. Even my own dear mother is in danger. He told me to carry those papers through to Cracow at any cost; to get your help if need be, and to say that your friend, Count Ladislas, was also involved. I was to tell you this, if you showed any reluctance to help me. But now what can we do?” and she looked the picture of dismay.

“You were travelling as an English girl?”

“Yes, as Miss Mary Smith. He got passports for me in that name and for himself as Ivan Grubel, my servant.”

“Where are they?”

“He has them and the rest of the papers. They are sewn into his coat.”

“Why did he make all this methodical preparation?”

“He was recognized, I think, in Bratinsk. That was why we were driving away. He expected to be pursued.”

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