"You will not. You are under arrest."
I laughed heartily and snapped my fingers, saying —
"Before you give me over to your police, first telegraph to your Minister of Finance, Monsieur de Witte, and inquire of him whom and what I am."
"I don't understand you."
"You have merely to send my name and description to the Minister and ask for a reply," I said. "He will give you instructions — or, if you so desire, ask his Majesty yourself."
"And why, pray, does his Majesty concern himself about you?" he asked, at once puzzled.
"You will learn later, after I am confined in Kajana and your secret is known in Petersburg."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," I said, "I mean that I have taken all the necessary steps to be forearmed against you. The day I am incarcerated by your order, the whole truth will be known. I shall not be the sufferer — but you will."
My words, purposely enigmatical, misled him. He saw the drift of my argument, and being of course unaware of how much I knew, he was still in fear of me. My only uncertainty was of the actual fate of poor Elma. My wallet had been stolen — with a purpose, without a doubt — for the thief had deprived me of that most important of all documents, the Open Sesame to every closed door, the ukase of the Czar.
"You defy me!" he said hoarsely, turning back to the window with the written order for my im-
