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Updated: May 31, 2025
Sofia uttered a small cry, more of surprise than fright, and hung back, trying to free the arm by which he was trying to guide her to the open door. "It's our only chance," he warned her, coolly. "We're between two fires. Better not delay!" She yielded and tumbled in. Karslake followed and slammed the door.
For if Karslake had done her a cruel wrong in winning her avowal of the love that had been growing in her heart these many weeks, while he was merely amusing himself or serving a secret purpose whose was the initial blame for that? Who had egged Karslake on, as he had asserted, "to win her confidence," leaving to him the choice of means to that end? And why?
And she hardened her heart and eyes as she rose to face Karslake on more equal terms. But when she saw him waiting patiently, with that friendly smile of his she knew so well, she hesitated long enough to permit his anticipating her with a quiet question: "Well, Princess Sofia?"
"It is nothing," Sofia replied again in that faint, stifled voice. She added in determined effort to subdue her trembling and turn their talk to essentials: "You sent for me I am here." "I am so sorry. If I had guessed ..." Enlightenment seemed to dawn all at once. "But surely it isn't because of that stupid business with Karslake? Surely you didn't take him seriously?" "How should I ?"
Then Karslake announced they must bustle along, because they were expected by some person unnamed, but just the same he meant to have a drink before he budged a foot. And he called a waiter and requested a whiskey and soda for himself and some beer for Nogam.... And Sofia turned her attention to other things.
"One moment, Karslake.... This man, Nogam: where did you pick him up?" "He used to buttle for my father, sir, but got into trouble some domestic unpleasantness, I believe needed money, and raised a cheque. The old boy let him off easy; but I've got the cheque, and Nogam knows it. The fellow's perfectly trained and absolutely dependable, knows his place and his duties and not another blessed thing.
Karslake wrote it in 1888-89, and the controversy that arose about the incident of the third chapter is still sporadically and intermittently continued. The manuscript that follows now appears, of course, for the first time in print, and I acknowledge herewith my obligations to Karslake's father, Mr. Patterson Karslake, for permission to publish.
And even when we think of Death ... there's the possibility that on the other side of the curtain, where the unseen audience sits, whose hisses and applause we never hear ... over there it may be more entertaining still!" Karslake was inquisitively watching his face. "You would say that," he commented, deference and admiration in his voice. "By all accounts you've had a most amusing life."
She wanted desperately and tried her best to love Victor as his daughter should; and that he cared for her profoundly she knew and never questioned; yet when she searched her secret heart Sofia discovered no feeling for the man other than a singular form of fear. Waring, Karslake, even the unspeakable Sturm.
It was a dark and silent street by night, little used, a mere link between two main thoroughfares. Sofia, running for dear life, was still far from the nearest corner. Karslake doubled nimbly across the street to the only vehicle in sight, an impressive Rolls-Royce town-car. Jumping on the running-board he pointed out the fleeing shadow to the chauffeur.
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