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strikes fear into the hearts of those who are sheltering lies. And I wonder, Sunny, if our friend is not more worried for himself than he is for the well-being of the court.”
    “You cannot say that, my love! Our friend wishes only for the good ofour family, and of our country. He has even sent you a gift.” There was a rustling of paper
.
    “What on earth is that?”
    “It is a comb,” she replied. “One of his own, and he has suggested that it would bring you good fortune to run it through your hair before you attend your daily meetings with the generals.”
    Pekkala shuddered at the thought of Rasputin’s greasy hair
.
    The Tsar was thinking the same thing. “I will not take part in another one of Rasputin’s disgusting rituals!” he shouted, then strode out of the room and into the hallway
.
    There was nowhere for Pekkala to go. He had only one choice—to stay where he was
.
    The Tsar was startled
.
    For a moment the two men stared at each other
.
    Pekkala broke the silence, saying the first thing that came into his mind. “How are your boots, Majesty?”
    For a moment, the Tsar just blinked in surprise. Then he smiled. “The English make wonderful shoes,” he replied, “only not for human beings.”
    Now the Tsarina appeared in the doorway. She wore a plain white floor-length dress, with sleeves which stopped at the elbows and a collar that covered her throat. Tied around her waist was a belt made of black cloth, which had tassels at the end. Around her neck, suspended on a gold chain, she wore a crucifix made of bone which had been carved by Rasputin himself. She was a severe-looking woman, with a thin mouth that turned down at the edges, deep-set eyes, and a smooth, broad forehead. Pekkala had seen pictures of her just after she was married to the Tsar. She had seemed much happier then. Now, when her face was relaxed, lines of worry fell into place, like cracks in a pottery glaze
.
    “What do you want?” she demanded of Pekkala
.
    “His Majesty asked me to report to him at four p.m. precisely.”
    “Then you are late,” she snapped
.
    “No, Majesty,” replied Pekkala. “I was on time.”
    Then the Tsarina realized he must have heard every word she had said
.
    “What news of Grodek?” asked the Tsar, hurriedly moving to a new topic
.
    “We have him, Majesty,” answered Pekkala
.
    The Tsar’s face brightened. “Well done!” The Tsar slapped him gently on the shoulder. Then he walked away down the hall. As he passed his wife, he paused and whispered in her ear. “You go and tell
that
to your friend.”
    Then it was just Pekkala and the Tsarina
.
    Her lips were dry, the result of the barbiturate Veronal, which she had been taking in order to help her sleep. The Veronal upset her stomach, so she had resorted to taking cocaine. One drug led to another. Over time, the cocaine had given her heart trouble, so she began taking small doses of arsenic. This had tinted the skin beneath her eyes a brownish green and also caused her sleeplessness, which put her right back where she had started. “I suffer from nightmares,” she told him, “and you, Pekkala, are in them.”
    “I do not doubt it, Majesty,” he replied
.
    For a moment, the Tsarina’s mouth hung slightly open as she tried to grasp the meaning of his words. Then her teeth came together with a crack. She walked into her room and closed the door
.
    “Y OU ASK FOR PROOF THAT THE T -34 HAS BEEN COMPROMISED ?” asked Stalin. “All right, Pekkala. I will give you proof. Two days ago, a German agent tried to purchase design specifications of the entire Konstantin Project.”
    “Purchase them?” asked Pekkala. “From whom?”
    “The White Guild,” replied Stalin.
    “The Guild!” Pekkala had not heard that name in a long time.
    Some years before, Stalin had ordered the formation of a secret organization, to be known as the White Guild, made up of former soldiers who had remained loyal to the Tsar long after his death andwere committed