“First there came the Head of Police, who told me he would go and find you, Barinia, and right after, His Excellency the Marshal of the Court.  His Excellency will return, although he is very pressed for time, before he takes the train at seven o’clock for Krasnoie-Coelo.”

All this had been said in Russian, naturally, but Matrena translated the words of the schwitzar into French in a low voice for Rouletabille, who was near her.  The general during this time had taken Rouletabille’s hand and pressed it affectionately, as if, in that mute way, to thank him for all the young man had done for them.  Feodor himself also had confidence, and he was grateful for the freer air that he was being allowed to breathe.  It seemed to him that he was emerging from prison.  Nevertheless, as the promenade had been a little fatiguing, Matrena ordered him to go and rest immediately.  Athanase and Thaddeus took their leave.  The two officers were already at the end of the garden, talking coldly, and almost confronting one another, like wooden soldiers.  Without doubt they were arranging the conditions of an encounter to settle their little difference at once.

The schwitzar gathered the general into his great arms and carried him into the veranda.  Feodor demanded five minutes’ respite before he was taken upstairs to his chamber.  Matrena Petrovna had a light luncheon brought at his request.  In truth, the good woman trembled with impatience and hardly dared move without consulting Rouletabille’s face.  While the general talked with Ermolai, who passed him his tea, Rouletabille made a sign to Matrena that she understood at once.  She joined the young man in the drawing-room.

“Madame,” he said rapidly, in a low voice, “you must go at once to see what has happened there.”

He pointed to the dining-room.

“Very well.”

It was pitiful to watch her.

“Go, madame, with courage.”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

“Because, madame, I have something to do elsewhere.  Give me the keys of the next floor.”

“No, no.  What for?”

“Not a second’s delay, for the love of Heaven.  Do what I tell you on your side, and let me do mine.  The keys!  Come, the keys!”

He snatched them rather than took them, and pointed a last time to the dining-room with a gesture so commanding that she did not hesitate further.  She entered the dining-room, shaking, while he bounded to the upper floor.  He was not long.  He took only time to open the doors, throw a glance into the general’s chamber, a single glance, and to return, letting a cry of joy escape him, borrowed from his new and very limited accomplishment of Russian, “Caracho!”