A DRAMA IN THE NIGHT
At the door of the Krestowsky Rouletabille, who was in a hurry for a conveyance, jumped into an open carriage where la belle Onoto was already seated.The dancer caught him on her knees.
"To Eliaguine, fast as you can," cried the reporter for all explanation.
"Scan! Scan! (Quickly, quickly)" repeated Onoto.
She was accompanied by a vague sort of person to whom neither of them paid the least attention.
"What a supper! You waked up at last, did you?" quizzed the actress.
But Rouletabille, standing up behind the enormous coachman, urged the horses and directed the route of the carriage.They bolted along through the night at a dizzy pace.At the corner of a bridge he ordered the horses stopped, thanked his companions and disappeared.
"What a country! What a country! Caramba!" said the Spanish artist.
The carriage waited a few minutes, then turned back toward the city.
Rouletabille got down the embankment and slowly, taking infinite precautions not to reveal his presence by making the least noise, made his way to where the river is widest.Seen through the blackness of the night the blacker mass of the Trebassof villa loomed like an enormous blot, he stopped.Then he glided like a snake through the reeds, the grass, the ferns.He was at the back of the villa, near the river, not far from the little path where he had discovered the passage of the assassin, thanks to the broken cobwebs.At that moment the moon rose and the birch-trees, which just before had been like great black staffs, now became white tapers which seemed to brighten that sinister solitude.
The reporter wished to profit at once by the sudden luminance to learn if his movements had been noticed and if the approaches to the villa on that side were guarded.He picked up a small pebble and threw it some distance from him along the path.At the unexpected noise three or four shadowy heads were outlined suddenly in the white light of the moon, but disappeared at once, lost again in the dark tufts of grass.
He had gained his information.
The reporter's acute ear caught a gliding in his direction, a slight swish of twigs; then all at once a shadow grew by his side and he felt the cold of a revolver barrel on his temple.He said "Koupriane," and at once a hand seized his and pressed it.
The night had become black again.He murmured: "How is it you are here in person?"The Prefect of Police whispered in his ear:
"I have been informed that something will happen to-night.Natacha went to Krestowsky and exchanged some words with Annouchka there.
Prince Galitch is involved, and it is an affair of State.""Natacha has returned?" inquired Rouletabille.
"Yes, a long time ago.She ought to be in bed.In any case she is pretending to be abed.The light from her chamber, in the window over the garden, has been put out.""Have you warned Matrena Petrovna?"
"Yes, I have let her know that she must keep on the sharp look-out to-night.""That's a mistake.I shouldn't have told her anything.She will take such extra precautions that the others will be instantly warned.""I have told her she should not go to the ground-floor at all this night, and that she must not leave the general's chamber.""That is perfect, if she will obey you."
"You see I have profited by all your information.I have followed your instructions.The road from the Krestowsky is under surveillance.""Perhaps too much.How are you planning?""We will let them enter.I don't know whom I have to deal with.
I want to strike a sure blow.I shall take him in the act.No more doubt after this, 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.
