“There are certain persons,” I went on, “to whom it would be of intense interest to know the true reason why the steam-yacht Lola put into Leghorn; why I was entertained on board her; why the safe in the British Consulate was rifled, and why the unfortunate girl, kept a prisoner on board, was taken on shore just before the hurried sailing of the vessel.  And there are other mysteries which the English police are trying to solve, namely, the reason Armida Santini and a man disguised as her husband died in Scotland at the hand of an assassin.  But surely I need say no more.  It is surely sufficient to convince you that if the truth were spoken, the revelations would be distinctly awkward.”

“For whom?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“For you.  Come, Baron,” I said, “can we not yet speak frankly?”

But he was silent for a moment, a fact which was in itself proof that my pointed argument had caused him to reconsider his intention of sending me under escort back to that castle of terror.

If my journey there was in order to meet my love, I would not have cared.  It was the ignorance of her whereabouts or of her fate that held me in such deep, all-consuming anxiety.  Each hour that passed increased my fond and tender affection for her.  And yet what irony of circumstance!  She had been cruelly snatched from me at the very moment that freedom had been ours.

I think it was well that I assumed that air of defiance with the man who had ground Finland beneath his heel.  He was unused to it.  No one dared to go against his will, or to utter taunt or threat to him.  He was paramount, with all the powers of an emperor—­the power, indeed, of life and death.  Therefore he was not in the habit of being either thwarted or criticised, and I could see that my words had aroused within him a boiling tumult of resentment and of rage.  I told him nothing of the loss of my wallet or of the precious document that it had contained.  My defiance was merely upon principle.

“Arrest me if you like.  Denounce me by means of any lie that arises to your lips, but remember that the truth is known beyond the confines of the Russian Empire, and for that reason traces will be sought of me and full explanation demanded.  I have taken precaution, Xavier Oberg,” I added, “therefore do your worst.  I repeat again that I defy you!”

He paced the big room, his thin claw-like hands still clenched, his yellow teeth grinding, his dark, deep-set eyes fixed straight before him.  If he had dared, he would have struck me down at his feet.  But he did not dare.  I saw too plainly that even though my wallet was gone I still held the trump-card—­that he feared me.

The mention I had made of the Minister of Finance, however, seemed to cause him considerable hesitation.  That high official had the ear of the Emperor, and if I were a friend there might be inquiries.  As I stood before him leaning against a small buhl table, I watched all the complex workings of his mind, and tried to read the mysterious motive which had caused him to consign poor Elma to Kajana.