Slowly and deliberately I took from my vest a Milanese dagger of thin sharp steel--one that I always carried with me as a means of self-defence--I drew it from its sheath, and looked at the fine edge glittering coldly in the pallid moon-rays.

I kissed it joyously; it was my final remedy! I poised it aloft with firm fingers--another instant and it would have been buried deep in my heart, when I felt a powerful grasp on my wrist, and a strong arm struggling with mine forced the dagger from my hand.

Savagely angry at being thus foiled in my desperate intent, I staggered back a few paces and sullenly stared at my rescuer.

He was a tall man, clad in a dark overcoat bordered with fur; he looked like a wealthy Englishman or American travelling for pleasure.

His features were fine and commanding; his eyes gleamed with a gentle disdain as he coolly met my resentful gaze.