think it would
be safe to stay here--safe for you or for Kensky. I have sent one of my
men on a bicycle to watch the Moscow road."

"Is that necessary?" asked Malinkoff. "Are you suspect?"

Petroff nodded.

"If Boolba learns that Kensky passed this way, he will guess that it is
to me that he came. I was in the service of the Grand Duke, and if it
were not for the fact that a former workman of mine is now Assistant
Minister of Justice in Petrograd, I should have been arrested long ago.
If Boolba finds Israel Kensky here, or the Grand Duchess, nothing can
save me. My only hope is to get you away before there is a search.
Understand, little general," he said earnestly, "if you had not the car,
I would take all risks and let you stay until you were found."

"That seems unnecessary," said Malinkoff. "I quite agree. What do you
say, Kensky?"

The old man, who had followed Malcolm down the stairs, nodded.

"I should have shot Boolba," he said thoughtfully, "but it would have
made too much noise."

"You should have used the knife, little father," said Petroff, but
Kensky shook his head.

"He wears chain armour under his clothes," he said. "All the
commissaries do."

Preparations for the journey were hurriedly made. The girl's trunk had
proved a veritable storehouse, and she came down in a short tweed skirt
and coat, her glorious hair hidden under a black tam o' shanter, and
Malcolm could scarcely take his eyes from her.

"You have a coat," said the practical Malinkoff. "That is good--you may
need it."

Crash!

It was the sound of a rifle butt against the door which struck them
dumb. Muffled by the thick wood, the voice of the knocker yet came
clearly: "Open in the name of the Revolution!"

Petroff blinked twice, and on his face was a look as though he could not
believe his ears. The girl shrank to Malcolm's side, and Malinkoff
stroked his beard softly. Only Cherry Bim seemed to realize the
necessities of the moment, and he pulled both guns simultaneously and
laid them noiselessly on the table before him.

"Open in the name of the Revolution!"

A hiss from Kensky brought them round. He beckoned them through the door
by which they had made their original entry to the room, and pointed to
the light. He gripped Petroff by the shoulder.

"Upstairs to your bedroom, friend," he said. "Put on your night-shirt
and talk to them through the window."

Down the two passages they passed and came to the little door, whi