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“Your mission? What is that?”
“I will tell you some day—if you will grant me a hearing?”
“You may always depend on that, mademoiselle,” I answered as earnestly as I felt, so earnestly indeed that she turned and looked at me in surprise.
“Pray God your Majesty means that.”
And I was still pondering her reply when the carriage stopped and she told me we had reached our destination.
Chapter IV—WHEN I WAS CZAR
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AS I sat in the sumptuously furnished drawing-room, waiting for Helga Boreski to join me, I felt both embarrassed and puzzled.
Who was she? What was the mysterious mission of which she had spoken? What was her connexion with this Boreski affair? What part was she playing in the serio-comic drama in which I had thus suddenly been involved?
I could see no answer to the questions. I had made as keen an observation of the house as a few rapid glances in the darkness would permit; but could see little more than that it was a large rambling building standing well secluded in extensive grounds. Inside, the place contained all the evidences of considerable wealth, and it was clear somebody connected with it must have money.