was proverbial throughout Finland, therefore he might not be alone, or in any case, on arrival in Petersburg he would obtain assistance in keeping observation upon me.
I knew that the Baron desired my death, and that therefore I could not be too wary of pitfalls. That fatal chain so cunningly prepared for me in Lambeth was still vividly within my memory.
As we passed Lanskaya, and ran through the outer suburbs of Petersburg, my fellow-traveller became inquisitive as to where I was going, but I was somewhat unresponsive, and busied myself with my bag until we entered the great echoing terminus whence I could see the Neva gleaming in the pale sunlight and the city beyond.
The fellow made no attempt to follow me — he was too clever a secret agent for that. He merely wished me "sdravstvuite," raised his hat politely and disappeared.
A porter carried my bag out of the station, and I drove across the bridge to the large hotel where I had stopped before, the Europe, on the corner of the Nevski Prospect and the Michael Street. There I engaged a front room looking down into the broad Nevski, had a wash, and then watched at the window for the appearance of the spy. I had already a good four hours before the steamer from Abo was due, and I intended to satisfy myself whether or not I was being followed.
Within twenty minutes the fellow lounged along on the opposite side of the road, just as I had expected. He had changed his clothes, and presented
