There was, I felt convinced, some hidden motive in all that sudden and marked friendliness.  That he really hated the English I had seen plainly when we had first met, and I had only compelled him to serve me by presenting the order signed by the Emperor, which made me his guest within the Russian dominions.  Even that document did not account for the length he had gone to secure the release of the woman I now loved in secret.  The more I thought it over, the more anxious did I become.  I could discern no motive for his friendliness, and, truth to tell, I always distrust those who are too friendly.  What straight and decided line of action should I take?  Carefully I went over all the strange events that had happened in England, and while anxious to obtain some solution of the amazing problem, yet I could not bring myself to leave Finland, and allow Elma to fall into the clutches of that high official who so persistently sought her end.  No.  I would go to him and face him.  I was anxious to see what manner of man was “The Strangler of Finland.”  Therefore, that same evening I left Abo, and traveled by rail up to the junction Toijala, whence, after a wait of six hours, I resumed by slow journey to Helsingfors.  I put up at Kamp’s, an elegant hotel on the long esplanade overlooking the port, and found the town, with its handsome streets and spacious squares, to be a much finer place than I had believed.  When I inquired of the French director of my hotel for the residence of his Excellency, the Governor-General, he regarded me with some surprise, saying: 

“The Baron lives up at the Palace, m’sieur—­that great building opposite the Salutong.  The driver of your drosky will point it out to you.”

“Is his Excellency in Helsingfors at the present moment?” I asked.

“The Baron never leaves the Palace, m’sieur,” responded the man.  “This is a strange country, you know,” he added, with a grin.  “It is said that his Excellency is in hourly fear of assassination.”

“Perhaps not without cause,” I remarked in a low voice, at which he elevated his shoulders and smiled.

At noon I descended from a drosky before a long, gray, massive building, over the big doorway of which was a large escutcheon bearing the Russian arms emblazoned in gold, and on entering where a sentry stood on either side, a colossal concierge in livery of bright blue and gold came forward to meet me, asking in Russian: 

“Whom do you wish to see?”

“His Excellency, the Governor-General.”

“Have you an appointment?”

“No.”

“His Excellency sees no one without an appointment,” the man told me somewhat gruffly.

“I am not here on public business, but upon a private matter,” I explained.  “Perhaps I may see his Excellency’s secretary?”

“If you wish, but I repeat that his Excellency sees no one without a previous appointment.”

I knew this quite well, for the “Strangler of Finland,” fearful of assassination, was as unapproachable as the Czar himself.  Following the directions of the concierge, however, I crossed a great bare courtyard, and, ascending a wide stone staircase, was confronted by a servant, who, on hearing my inquiry took me into a waiting-room, and left with my card to Colonel Luganski, whom he informed me was the Baron’s private secretary.