own; and his guilty conscience caused him to believe that the young Englishman had found out about the part he had played in giving Sir Isaiah Etheredge pointers which would assist in Georgina's conviction, so meant to take this opportunity to kill him.
The Russian was no coward, but he thought he knew death when he saw it approaching. As Roger counted three he shrugged his broad shoulders, refolded the sheets of paper and, leaning forward, laid them down on the far side of his desk.
From that instant everything seemed to move with startling suddenness.
*****
Roger stepped forward to pick them up, but with a swish of her silken skirts, Natalia Andreovna ran in and snatched them from under his hand.
As he turned his pistol on her and demanded that she give them up, Vorontzoff grabbed a heavy paper- weight up from his desk and flung it at him;
The missile caught him on the ear, knocking him off his balance and half-stunning him for a moment. Before Vorontzoff could get round his desk to hurl himself on him, Roger had recovered sufficiently to jump back a pace and level the pistol at his head.
The Ambassador stopped dead in his tracks; but Natalia, the papers still clutched in her hand, was now running towards the door. Roger hesitated only an instant. He must catch her and get them back before she had a chance to secrete them somewhere about the house.
Thrusting Vorontzoff aside, he pelted after her, shouting: 'Stop, damn you! Stop, or I'll shoot you.' But she already had the door open and, ignoring his cries, dashed out into the hall.
The two footmen on duty were standing at its far end near the door of the vestibule. As she raced towards the stairs she screamed something at them in Russian. Instantly they sprang to life and ran at Roger.
Natalia was half-way up the semi-circular staircase when the three men met in a rush at the bottom. Roger had uncocked his pistol as he ran and, reversing it, now gripped it by the barrel like a club. His first blow with it caught one of the Russians on the side of the head and knocked him senseless. But the other grabbed him round the waist in a bear-like hug.
For a moment they swayed there, then Roger brought the metal-shod butt of his pistol down with all his force on the top of the man's white wig. With a groan he relaxed his hold and slid to the ground senseless.
Natalia was now up on the landing. Turning, Roger took the stairs three at a time in pursuit of her. Suddenly he heard Vorontzoff yelling in his rear: 'Halt or I'll kill you! Stay where you are or you're a dead man!'
Roger had reached the curve of the stairs and had only to glance sideways to see the Ambassador ten feet below, now armed with a brace of pistols, both of which were pointing up at him. Ignoring the threat he leapt up another three stairs. There was a loud report and he was thrown sideways by a bullet smashing into the back of his left shoulder.
Swaying violently he mounted the last six stairs, just in time to see
Natalia dive through a doorway on the opposite side of the landing. The door slammed behind her, momentarily drowning the shouts of Vorontzoff and half a dozen servants who had come running into the hall at the sound of the pistol-shot.
Dashing across the landing, Roger flung himself against the door through which Natalia had disappeared. At the impact the wound he had received gave him a frightful twinge but the door yielded slightly, so he knew that she must be holding it shut by leaning against it. Stepping back a few paces he ran at it, bringing up his right foot so that it should strike the door flat, like a battering-ram.
The door gaped open eighteen inches and, thrown off her balance, Natalia fell to the floor on its far side with a scream. Before she could get to her feet, Roger had forced his way through and grasped her by the wrist of the hand that held the papers.
Struggling up she clenched her other fist and hit him with it in the face with all her strength. The blow landed on his right eye. For a second he saw stars and whorls of red fire. As he staggered back she tore her wrist from his grip and ran across the room to the window.
With a shake of his head, Roger recovered from the blow and went after her. In the darkness he collided with the end post of a bed and half-stunned himself. The check gave Natalia time to open the window. Darting through it she ran out on to the balcony and began to shout: 'Here! Here! Count Vorontzoff! I have the letter! I'll throw it to you!'
Vorontzoff was no longer in the room below, as she thought, but crossing the landing as fast as his legs would carry him, followed hot-foot by his servants. Roger sprang across to the window and out on to the balcony. At the sound of his trampling feet Natalia turned and faced him. In a last effort to prevent his snatching the letter she held it high above her head and leaned right back over the ornamental iron balcony railing.
Roger stretched out his hand to grab her, but it met empty air. To avoid his grasp she jerked violently backwards. The rusty iron railing gave way under the shock and she went hurtling head over heels down to the terrace.
For a second Roger swayed above the abyss, within an ace of pitching after her. No sooner had he regained his balance than he heard the sound of his pursuers crashing through the room behind him. Desperately he cast round for a way of escape. To his right he suddenly caught a faint glint of the first starlight on the big, shiny leaves of the magnolia tree.
To gain the few moments needed to scramble out on to it he had, somehow, to give a temporary check to the pursuit. Turning, he re-cocked his pistol and fired it blind through the open window into the darkness of the room. Then, thrusting the still-smoking weapon back into his pocket he knelt down, seized a stout branch of the magnolia and swung himself off the balcony.
The branch bent and nearly gave under his weight; but before it could snap he managed to get a hold on the thick, twisted trunk that was set firmly against the wall. Each time he had to take a part of his weight on his left shoulder it pained him so greatly that he felt as though his arm was being torn from its socket. Gritting his teeth against the pain he managed to slither down, hand over hand, to the terrace.
White-faced and trembling, he looked round for Natalia. After a second he saw her. She had fallen upon one of the stone seats and hung, face down, doubled up across its back.
Hurrying over to her, he lifted her up and supported her against the back of the seat. Every breath of wind had been driven out of her body. She could not speak but in the starlight her green eyes glared defiance and hatred at him. The copy of the letter was still clenched in her right hand. Between agonised gasps for breath she made a last feeble effort to prevent his getting it; but he tore it from her and pushed it into his pocket.
Suddenly, as he strove to keep her from slipping to the ground, she was sick and vomited all over his feet. By this time Vorontzoff and his men had come out on to the balcony, and were peering down over the broken ironwork to see what was going on in the semi-darkness below them. The Ambassador levelled his second pistol and pulled the trigger; there was a crash, a spurt of flame and the bullet whistled past Roger's head.
A moment later, above the cursing of the men up on the balcony, he caught the sound of hurried footsteps on the gravel some fifty paces to his right. He guessed at once that the shouting and the shooting had reached the ears of the outdoor servants and that they were running from the stables. In another minute his retreat would be cut off. If he was to save the letter he had not a second to lose.
As he straightened himself Natalia broke from his grasp, turned, spat in his face, and staggered away up the iron garden steps to the house. That she had survived her fall of fifteen feet on to a stone seat appeared a miracle, but as she had fallen on her stomach, it seemed that she had not sustained any permanent injury.
As she stumbled away from him, Roger swung round, jumped off the terrace and ran across the lawn. Shouts, curses and the sound of pounding feet followed him, but fear of capture lent speed to his long legs. Outpacing the stable-hands he reached the iron gate with a good lead, wrenched it open and staggered through the fringe of wood to the road. Flinging himself into the waiting carriage he shouted to Tomkins to drive like hell back to Bedford Square.
* * * * *
While the carriage bowled along Roger tried to examine his wound; but as it was at the back of his left shoulder it was almost impossible for him to do so. It was very painful and he thought that the bullet had smashed his shoulder blade. He had lost a lot of blood and felt faint and dizzy.
His physical distress was only dominated by his mental agitation. The all-important project which had inspired his clandestine visit to the Russian Embassy had, as yet, not even been broached. Natalia's unexpected
