'Yes. After difficulties. I dealt with one man alone—the man who had been appointed by my master to
divide the wealth among the others.
'But since then, I have been hounded. Agents of the Reds have been upon my trail. I have not dared to
attempt an escape.'
'What do they want of you? Do you still have any of your master's wealth?'
'None of it. I have some money of my own enough to enable me to escape.'
'Why do they seek you then?'
'To learn the name of the man to whom I delivered the jewels,' explained Berchik. 'They seek to capture
me, to torture me; that I may betray my trust.
'For if they learn the name of that man—a name which I alone know - they will seek to take his portion
from him.'
'He received more than the others?' questioned Prince Zuvor.
'Yes,' replied Berchik, 'he gained twice as much as any other; and he knows the names of all to whom
he delivered a share.'
PRINCE ZUVOR was silent. So was Berchik. Both men listened. They could hear sounds from the
street outside the house the throbbing of a motor came to their ears.
Were Berchik's pursuers waiting there?
'Where do you wish to go?' asked Prince Zuvor suddenly.
'To Australia,' replied Berchik. 'If I can elude these Soviet agents, I can easily gain safety. Then I can
communicate with the American to whom I gave the jewels.'
Prince Zuvor nodded.
'He should be warned,' he said. 'But is it right that you should leave? He may be in danger, and may
need your advice.'
'It is dangerous for me to stay here,' objected Berchik.
'That is true,' replied Prince Zuvor. He seemed to be formulating a plan.
'Perhaps I can help you—to escape. Perhaps I can also—keep a guarding eye upon this American
whom you have mentioned.'
A smile of relief appeared upon Berchik's face. The Russian servant seemed to be freed of his former
anxiety. His appeal to Prince Zuvor had been successful.
'What is the American's name?' questioned Prince Zuvor quietly.
'Bruce Duncan,' whispered Berchik. He drew a slip of paper from his pocket, and scrawled some
words upon it. 'This is his address. Can I count on you to protect him, your excellency?'
'Certainly,' replied Prince Zuvor, with a smile. 'Now for your escape, Berchik!
'Unknown to any one, I have devised a plan whereby I can flee from here at a moment's notice. That
plan will be utilized to-night; but it will be you who will escape. You have money, you say?'
Berchik nodded.
Prince Zuvor went to a handsome mahogany writing table, and inscribed a series of directions. He
passed the paper to Berchik. The servant read the words, and smiled. Prince Zuvor shook hands with
Berchik, as the latter rose.
'Go!' he said. 'Ivan will start you on the way to safety.'
He rang the bell, and the dull-faced man entered. Berchik followed him, and was conducted to the cellar.
There, Ivan, with amazing skill, placed make-up on Berchik's face that gave an entirely different
appearance to Berchik's features. Then Ivan supplied him with a new overcoat, of different pattern than
his own.
Prince Zuvor's servant opened a door, and Berchik found himself in a concealed alleyway that led to the
street in back of the house.
Berchik was off to safety!
HE followed the alleyway to the side of the house in back of Prince Zuvor's residence. The house was
apparently deserted. But Berchik, following the directions which he had read, opened the side door and
entered.
He went to the front door of the house and peered through the glass panel. A taxicab drove up. It had
been summoned to this address by Prince Zuvor. Berchik hurried out and entered the cab.
As they turned the corner to the avenue, a car rolled by in the opposite direction. It was the sedan that
had followed Berchik to Prince Zuvor's house. The eyes within must have spotted Berchik in spite of his
disguise, for the sedan stopped suddenly.
'Hurry!' said Berchik to the driver. He had given the man an address named on the list of directions.
The cab sped rapidly onward. It turned into a side street, and Berchik left it.
He entered a small unpretentious house, which was entirely dark, and locked the door behind him. He
saw the sedan draw up as the cab pulled away.
Berchik dashed through the empty house and ran out the back door into another tiny alley which did not
go to the front of the house. This way led him to another street, where he found a second cab awaiting
him.
He instructed the driver to take him to the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street railway station.
The sedan had lost the trail.
Berchik caught his train; one hour later, he reached a small town in Connecticut. There he went to a
garage, and gave his name as Robert Jennings. The garage man brought out a small coupe. The car was
an old one, but as Berchik drove away, he realized that it was in excellent running order.
A few miles outside the little town, Berchik stopped the car. Beneath the front seat, he found two New
York license plates.
He removed the Connecticut plates, and threw them into the woods beside the road. He attached the
New York plates and drove along.
He smiled contentedly in the darkness. His safety was now assured.
This automobile, kept in the Connecticut town under an assumed name, would enable him to reach a city
named in the directions; there he would take a train for the West.
AS Berchik's car whirled along the deserted road, the fleeing man felt the first relief that he had known
since he had come to America to deliver his master's wealth.
The Red agents had picked up his trail after he had given the jewels to Bruce Duncan. Since then they
had played a waiting, catlike game.
Now he was safe—free from any avenging hand. He could write a warning letter to Bruce Duncan from
the Middle West; and could keep on to California; then to Australia.
These thoughts were in Berchik's mind as he rounded a long curve, on the side of a hill. Below him, at the
right, yawned a deep ravine.
'Prince Zuvor is clever,' murmured Berchik. 'This is the plan he chose for escape. They are watching
him—as they watched me. But there is no danger for me now. I am safe. They cannot strike me.'
He turned the wheel to the left, as the curve increased. From the back of the car he heard a slight click.
He wondered what it meant. Then came a second click.
A sudden fear came over Berchik. He thrust his foot forward to the brake pedal.
But his action was too late. Before Berchik could save himself from the unknown danger, a terrific
explosion came from the rear of the car.
The back of the light coupe was lifted upward as though by a giant hand. The shattered automobile
hurtled forward and crashed through the fence at the side of the road.
