"The governor has been transferred to Siberia, and will probably be the
last that I shall reach. The prefect is now in command of the Russian
secret police in London, and unless an accident happens he will never
leave England."
Colston spoke in a cold, passionless, merciless tone, just as a lawyer
might speak of a criminal condemned to die by the ordinary process of
the law, and as Arnold heard him he shuddered. But at the same time the
picture in the Council-chamber came up before his mental vision, and he
was forced to confess that men who could so far forget their manhood as
to lash a helpless woman up to a triangle and flog her till her flesh
was cut to ribbons, were no longer men but wild beasts, whose very
existence was a crime. So he merely said--
"They were justly slain. Now tell me more about Natasha."
"There is very little more that I can tell you, I'm afraid. All I know
is that the Brotherhood of the Terror is the conception and creation of
a single man, and that that man is Natas, the father of Natasha, as she
is known to us. His orders come to us either directly in writing through
Natasha, or indirectly through him you have heard spoken of as the Chief."
"Oh, then the Chief is not Natas?"
"No, we have all of us seen him. In fact, when he is in London he always
presides at the Circle meetings. You would hardly believe it, but he is
an English nobleman, and Secretary to the English Embassy at Petersburg."
"Then he is Lord Alanmere, and an old college friend of mine!" exclaimed
Arnold. "I saw his name in the paper the night before last. It was
mentioned in the account of the murder"--
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