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I had not the faintest suspicion of her meaning.

“What name was that?” I asked, having even forgotten it.

The question drew a smile of contempt from her.

“I will not insult myself by repeating it.”

“The carriage is at the door, mademoiselle,” announced the servant.

“You can go, monsieur,” she said, when the man had left.

But she had startled as well as interested me, and I hesitated.

“I think you should speak more plainly. I am honest when I say I do not understand you.”

Boreski had now passed out of consideration, and he stood back watching us two, as if acknowledging her leadership.

“You wish for plain speaking. You shall have it, monsieur—from the enemy you have made to-night. This is my work,” she said proudly, pointing to the papers in Boreski’s hands. “My work, only. I sought at first by all fair means to reach your—the Emperor’s ear, believing, like the fool I was, that he would do me justice. But his minister was too powerful, too vigilant, too alarmed to let my complaint reach his ear. I knew why. God, how well I knew it! Then, and not until then, when I had failed by open means, I had recourse to these. I joined hands with another of Russia’s victims, M. Boreski here, and with him, through the Duchess Stephanie, I found the means I sought. God knows Russian duplicity gives many chances, and one of them came my way, putting me in a position to gain by force the justice which was denied to mere pleading.”