unbecoming, Sofia persisted.

"Why?"

Prince Victor Vassilyevski gave a gesture of pain and reluctance.

"Must I tell you? Why not? You must know some day, as well now as later,
perhaps. Twenty years ago the name of Michael Lanyard was famous throughout
Europe--or shall I say infamous?--the name of the greatest thief of modern
times, otherwise known as 'The Lone Wolf'."

Involuntarily, Sofia stepped back, as if some shape of horror had been
suddenly thrust before her face.

"The Lone Wolf!" she echoed in a voice of dismay. "A thief! You!"

The man who called himself her father replied with a series of slow,
affirmative nods.

"That startles you?" he said in an indulgent voice. "Naturally. But you
will soon grow accustomed to the thought, you will condone that chapter in
my history, remembering I am no longer that man, no longer a thief, that
for many years now my record has been without reproach. You will remember
that there is more joy in Heaven over the one sinner who repents ... You
will forgive the father, if only for your mother's sake."

"For my mother's sake--?"

"What the Lone Wolf was in his day, your mother was in hers--the most
brilliant adventuress Europe ever knew."