until she came to where Malcolm stood, and as she did so for the first time she raised her head, and her eyes met his. Again he saw that little trick of hers; her hand went to her mouth, then her head went down, and she passed on as though she had never seen him.
"What did she do, Sophia? Tell me what she did when she came to the Englishman. Did she not see him?"
"She was startled," grumbled Sophia; "that is all. Boolba, let the woman go."
"Nay, nay, my little pigeon, she must finish her work."
"She has finished," said Sophia impatiently; "how long must this go on, Boolba? Is she not an aristocrat and a Romanoff, and are there none of your men who want wives?"
Malcolm felt rather than saw the head of every soldier in the room lift to these words.
"Wait a little," said Boolba. "You forget the book, my little pigeon—the 'Book of All-Power.' I would have that rather than that Irene Yaroslav found a good husband from our comrades. You may go, Irene Yaroslav," he said. "Serge!"
The officer who had taken the death warrants, and who stood waiting for dismissal, came forward.
"Take our little brother Malinkoff and the Britisher Hay and place them both in the prison
