very slowly progressing. I idled at the Hotel Cecil, longing daily for news of Elma. Only once did a letter come from her, a brief, well-written note, from which it appeared that she was quite well and happy, although she longed to be able to go out. The Princess was very kind indeed to her, and, she added, was making secret arrangements for her escape across the Russian frontier into Germany.
I knew what that meant. Use was to be made of certain Russian officials who were secretly allied with the Revolutionists in order to secure her safe conduct beyond the power of that order of exile of the tyrant de Plehve. I wrote to her under cover to the Princess, but there had been no time yet for a reply.
I saw Muriel many times, but never once did she refer to Rannoch or their sudden departure. Her only thought was of the man she loved.
"I always believed that you were engaged to Mr. Woodroffe," I said one day, when I called to tell her of Jack's latest bulletin.
"It is true that he asked me to marry him," she responded. "But there were reasons why I did not accept."
"Reasons connected with his past, eh?"
She smiled, and then said —
"Ah, Mr. Gregg, it is all a strange and very tragic story. I must see Jack. When do you think they will allow me to go to him?"
I explained that the doctor feared to cause the patient any undue excitement, but that in two
