Princess Zara

"You speak Russian?" he demanded imperiously, advancing a step towards

me.

"Perfectly," I replied.

"Your name!"

"Daniel Derrington." I purposely made my reply as curt as his question,

and I saw the shadow of a smile flit across his features. I knew then

that I had taken the right course with him.

"What is your nationality?"

"I am an American."

"Do you know who I am?"

"I do, your majesty." This time I bowed with more show of ceremony, but

he waved his hand commandingly, and in a voice much softer than he had

used before, went on: "Forget that you do know. It is more than likely that we will have many

interviews of this kind and I wish them all to be on the plane of

equals. That, I believe, is a condition which will come quite naturally

to an American although it would be utterly impossible to a European.

Are you as well acquainted with the identity of your companion?"

"I regret to say that I am not," I replied, relapsing into my former

manner.

"Then permit me to introduce you. Mr. Derrington, the Prince Michael

Michaelovitch Gortshakoff. And now that you know each other, we will

proceed. But first, be seated."

My business during several years had taken me into astonishing

situations, but never into one so astounding as this. I racked my brain

in wondering what it could portend; in conjecturing if it were real, or

if it were only the "hearty meal before the execution." I longed to ask

a few questions, but remembering the advice that had been given me just

before entering the room, I refrained.

"You will be surprised to learn that I am entirely aware of the object

of your presence in Russia," continued his majesty, "for unless I am

mistaken you believed your errand to be an inviolate secret. Is that

true?"

"Quite true."

"And yet it is known to me. The best proof of that is that you are

here."

I bowed.

"I knew a few hours after you left your own country, that you had

started. I was fully acquainted with your mission. My eyes, or the eyes

of those who are in my confidence, have not been off you one moment

since you arrived in Europe. They followed you to Paris, across

Germany, and even into the hotel where our friend called upon you and

where you are known as Mr. Smith." He paused an instant, and turning to

the prince, added: "Tell him the prospective fate of Mr. Smith,

prince."

"Siberia," came the reply in one word, uttered calmly and coldly.

"Siberia?" I repeated after him, and shrugged my shoulders; and the

czar added: "Siberia."