“Very well,” said Koupriane, “I will make my report to the Tsar.”

Galitch turned.  He was as pale as Koupriane.

“In that case, monsieur,” said he, “don’t forget to add that I am His Majesty’s most humble servant.”

The carriage drew up.  The prince stepped in.  Koupriane watched him roll away, raging at heart and with his fists doubled.  Just then his men came up.

“Go.  Search,” he said roughiy, pointing into the Barque.

They scattered through the establishment, entering all the rooms.  Cries of irritation and of protest arose.  Those lingering after the latest of late suppers were not pleased at this invasion of the police.  Everybody had to rise while the police looked under the tables, the benches, the long table-cloths.  They went into the pantries and down into the bold.  No sign of Katharina.  Suddenly Koupriane, who leaned against a netting and looked vaguely out upon the horizon, waiting for the outcome of the search, got a start.  Yonder, far away on the other side of the river, between a little wood and the Staria Derevnia, a light boat drew to the shore, and a little black spot jumped from it like a flea.  Koupriane recognized the little black spot as Kathanna.  She was safe.  Now he could not reach her.  It would be useless to search the maze of the Bohemian quarter, where her country-people lived in full control, with customs and privileges that had never been infringed.  The entire Bohemian population of the capital would have risen against him.  It was Prince Galitch who had made him fail.  One of his men came to him: 

“No luck,” said he.  “We have not found Katharina, but she has been here nevertheless.  She met Prince Galitch for just a minute, and gave him something, then went over the other side into a canoe.”

“Very well,” and the Prefect shrugged his shoulders.  “I was sure of it.”

He felt more and more, exasperated.  He went down along the river edge and the first person he saw was Rouletabille, who waited for him without any impatience, seated philosophically on a bench.

“I was looking for you,” cried the Prefect.  “We have failed.  By your fault!  If you had not thrown yourself into my arms -”

“I did it on purpose,” declared the reporter.

“What!  What is that you say?  You did it on purpose?”

Koupriane choked with rage.

“Your Excellency,” said Rouletabille, taking him by the arm, “calm yourself.  They are watching us.  Come along and have a cup of tea at Cubat’s place.  Easy now, as though we were out for a walk.”

“Will you explain to me?”

“No, no, Your Excellency.  Remember that I have promised you General Trebassof’s life in exchange for your prisoner’s.  Very well; by throwing myself in your arms and keeping you from reaching Katharina, I saved the general’s life.  It is very simple.”

“Are you laughing at me?  Do you think you can mock me?”