fears. The Baron was intent upon again getting Elma into his power. Was it at his orders, I wondered, that the sweet-faced girl had been deprived of speech and hearing? Had she fallen an innocent victim to his infamous scheming?
About me men were eating strange dishes and talking in Finnish, while others were smoking and drinking their vodka; but I was in no mood for observation. My only thought was of she who was now lost to me.
I recollected that look of sweet trust and confidence in her splendid eyes when in our peril I had held her small soft hand in mine. Over a cigar I reviewed all the strange facts, and saw, to my intense chagrin, what the loss of Elma meant to me. She was there, in that grey inhospitable country, ruled by the tyrant of the Czar, and it was my duty to rescue her.
Why she had disappeared without warning I was at a loss to imagine, yet I could only surmise that her flight had been compulsory. Some women possess a mysterious sense of intuition, a curious and indescribable faculty of knowing when evil threatens them, that presents a strange and puzzling problem to our scientists. It is unaccountable, and yet many women possess it in a very marked degree. Was it, therefore, possible that Elma had awakened, and being warned of her peril had fled without arousing us? The suggestion was possible, but I feared improbable.
Another very curious feature in the affair was the sudden manner in which Michael Boranski had
