Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1936-11-20
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Sonia Michailevna."

The girl started violently on hear
ing her name called. 1t was 10 o'clock
at night, and the streets of Moscow
are badly lighted. She was not
coward, but she looked around and
made sure that she was only few
steps from the door of her workshop.
A shadow ran along the sidewalk be-
hind her.
"Sonia Michailevna, pardon me-
I've been waiting more than an hour
for you. You don't know how glad
am to see you"
Hearing these words, spoken in
French, the girl swung around. She
recognized the young man of the pre-
ceding evening.
"Leave me alone" she snapped.
"The small favor 1 did you doesn't
give the right to annoy me- had no
desire to see you again. comrade."
"What have 1 done to merit your
suspicious? We were more friendly
last night" he protested.
"You insult me by following me-"
She took a few steps, but Jean reso-
lutely barred her way.
"You misunderstood me, Comrade,"
he said gravely. can artist could
not see your face without remember
ing it. And you are the granddaugh-
ter of a great hero"
$50, you're a spy. Are you work.
ing for Serge Narskine Z"
"I thought you'd mention that name
That's why 1 came here. Will you
tell me who this Serge Narskine is"
"Ask your FRIEND" answered Sonia,
an expression of fear and suspicion
crossing her face.
"My friends name is Sir Herbert
Frawley. He is an English nobleman,
whose generosity know and who has
been in Russia with me for the last
three days."
Sonia shrugged her shoulders.
"Tell such lies to somebody else.
I've known that man for the last two
years-and have sad reasons for re-
Numbering him."
az swear that you are mistaken"
cried Jean vehemently. "You are
fooled by a resemblance. You have
onIy to see Sir Herbert and talk to
him. How can 1 make you believe
me-"
The young artists earnestness troub
led the girl.
"Well, goodbye, Comrade," she said.
"Frawley or Narskine, what differ
ence does it make to you?"
"a lot. And you haven't answered
me. Who is Narskine?"
"a mechanic, apparently. There
are only workers now in Russia; those
who aren't pretend to be. An influen-
tial member of the Mechanics Soviet,
if Pm not mistaken. Really, a very
brilliant savant."
"a savant -"
While talking, the girl had edged
towards the entrance of the shop. She
gave a quick leap and the door slam
med behind her. Hibeau stood alone
IN the street.
"Well, she's escaped" he murmur-
ed. "How can / find out what time
she leaves this place? Well, I'll tell
Sir Herbert about it." He turned and
walked towards his hotel.
Four in the morning, the sun was
already high. The door of the shop
opened, belching a crowd of workers,
all intent on getting home for a few
hours sleep.
Sonia was one of the last to emerge,
smiling as she breathed the fresh
morning air. She walked with the
Others a few PAGES, then the group
split up and she was alone. She was
already far from her comrades when
she heard footsteps behind her. Turn
ing, she saw Jean and Sir Herbert.
The Englishman bowed low.
'Mademoiselle,' he said, "wil you
be good enough to tell me if I am real
ly Serge Narskine?"
The girls forehead puckered in
slight frown as her clear eyes search
ed the mans face; then her features
relaxed.
"No," she said finally, II don't
know you, although you and Narskine
are like enough to be brothers" She
looked at Jean reproachfully.
"I'm sorry to bother you, mademol-
selle." Frawley went on. "Will you