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MAN OF MYSTERY A SUICIDE. Left-handed victim shoots himself in Cheapside lodgings . - The morning papers were full of it. But in all London there were two persons only who knew the inside facts of the strange tragedy, and that was a story none of the papers got. The evening before, in London, a woman confronted Stepan Petritsky, secret spy of the Czar, in his room. She had been his accomplice for two years. She was the intense, Slavonic type, oddly silent save in moments of strong emotion, with a half savage imagination, and great beauty which made her one of the most valuable instruments of the Petersburg detective service. She was passionately demanding of the spy the copy of their partnership agreement and he stood, revolver in hand, guarding the papers which she was well aware were concealed upon his person. Suddenly she laid hands on him. There was a struggle, a sharp report, the body of the spy collapsed. The woman heard footsteps on the stairs, and hastily thrusting the revolver in the dead man's hand, she hid herself in the wardrobe. There she leaned, half fainting, listening with pounding heart to hurried steps, and voices in the room. One of the two men left presently, and the door of her hiding place was swung open. Irina Levin sprang into the room with a smothered cry, seizing the hand of her discoverer. He was a well-known diplomatic agent of the English government. "The code," she gasped, "I came to steal it back for you. My heart has been, ah, it has tortured me." She broke off, turned pale and held up a discolored wrist. "He threatened me; I wrested the gun from him. It was all over in the next moment." Her eyes flashed. "See, I took pains, they will think he shot himself." The Englishman nodded slowly. He had noticed at first glance that the revolver had been hurriedly placed in the man's left hand, while the fingers of the right were stained with ink. He handed the woman a card. "Go there. Get a good sleep, and do not worry. Tomorrow early I will come to you." He took her hand. And she sank her head, with its crown of glossy black braids, on her breast. Then below their breaths they swore to partnership. Irina glided from the room. The diplomatic agent emptied the Russian's clothes. Then he cleaned the stain from the dead man's right hand and inked the finders clutching the revolver. That was how the officers found the "man of mystery."

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