you trust me."

"Adieu."

"Where are you going?"

"To bed. I have paid my debt to my host. I have the right to some repose
now. Good luck!"

But Koupriane had seized his hand.

"Listen."

With a little attention they detected a light stroke on the water. If
a boat was moving at this time for this bank of the Neva and wished to
remain hidden, the right moment had certainly been chosen. A great black
cloud covered the moon; the wind was light. The boat would have time to
get from one bank to the other without being discovered. Rouletabille
waited no longer. On all-fours he ran like a beast, rapidly and
silently, and rose behind the wall of the villa, where he made a turn,
reached the gate, aroused the dvornicks and demanded Ermolai, who opened
the gate for him.

"The Barinia?" he said.

Ermolai pointed his finger to the bedroom floor.

"Caracho!"

Rouletabille was already across the garden and had hoisted himself by
his fingers to the window of Natacha's chamber, where he listened. He
plainly heard Natacha walking about in the dark chamber. He fell back
lightly onto his feet, mounted the veranda steps and opened the door,
then closed it so lightly that Ermolai, who watched him from outside not
two feet away, did not hear the slightest grinding of the hinges. Inside
the villa Rouletabille advanced on tiptoe. He found the door of the
drawing-room open. The door of the sitting-room had not been closed, or
else had been reopened. He turned in his tracks, felt in the dark for a
chair and sat down, with his hand on his revolver in his pocket, waiting
for the events that would not delay long now. Above he heard distinctly
from time to time the movements of Matrena Petrovna. And this would
evidently give a sense of security to those who needed to have the
ground-floor free this night. Rouletabille imagined that the doors of
the rooms on the ground-floor had been left open so that it would be
easier for those who would be below to hear what was happening upstairs.
And perhaps he was not wrong.

Suddenly there was a vertical bar of pale light from the sitting-room
that overlooked the Neva. He deduced two things: first, that the window
was already slightly open, then that the moon was out from the clouds
again. The bar of light died almost instantly, but Rouletabille's eyes,
now used to the obscurity, still distinguished the open line of the
window. There the shade was less deep. Suddenly he felt the blood pound
at