“My dear Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, if it will not inconvenience you, I wish you would come and dine with me to-day.  I will look for you within two hours.  Madame Gounsovski will be pleased to make your acquaintance.  Believe me your devoted Gounsovski.”

Rouletabille considered, and decided: 

“I will go.  He ought to have wind of what is being plotted, and as for me, I don’t know where Annoucbka has gone.  I have more to learn from him than he has from me.  Besides, as Athanase Georgevitch said, one may regret not accepting the Head of the Okrana’s pleasant invitation.”

From six o’clock to seven he still waited vainly for Natacha’s response.  At seven o’clock, he decided to dress for the dinner.  Just as he rose, a messenger arrived.  There was still another letter for Joseph Rouletabille.  This time it was from Natacha, who wrote him: 

“General Trebassof and my step-mother will be very happy to have you come to dinner to-day.  As for myself, monsieur, you will pardon me the order which has closed to you for a number of days a dwelling where you have rendered services which I shall not forget all my life.”

The letter ended with a vague polite formula.  With the letter in his hand the reporter sat in thought.  He seemed to be asking himself, “Is it fish or flesh?” Was it a letter of thanks or of menace?  That was what he could not decide.  Well, he would soon know, for he had decided to accept that invitation.  Anything that brought him and Natacha into communication at the moment was a thing of capital importance to him.  Half-an-hour later he gave the address of the villa to an isvotchick, and soon he stepped out before the gate where Ermolai seemed to be waiting for him.

Rouletabille was so occupied by thought of the conversation he was going to have with Natacha that he had completely forgotten the excellent Monsieur Gounsovski and his invitation.

The reporter found Koupriane’s agents making a close-linked chain around the grounds and each watching the other.  Matrena had not wished any agent to be in house.  He showed Koupriane’s pass and entered.

Ermolai ushered Rouletabille in with shining face.  He seemed glad to have him there again.  He bowed low before him and uttered many compliments, of which the reporter did not understand a word.  Rouletablle passed on, entered the garden and saw Matrena Petrovna there walking with her step-daughter.  They seemed on the best of terms with each other.  The grounds wore an air of tranquillity and the residents seemed to have totally forgotten the somber tragedy of the other night.  Matrena and Natacha came smilingly up to the young man, who inquired after the general.  They both turned and pointed out Feodor Feodorovitch, who waved to him from the height of the kiosk, where it seemed the table had been spread.  They were going to dine out of doors this fine night.