The Russian answered me without noticing that I was not so well informed as himself.

"Oh, we shall find pretexts enough, you bet. For one thing, we shall signal them to clear out of the way, and when they have their trawl nets down and can't move! That will be lively. There will be a collision or two, I shouldn't wonder."

"But isn't that against the rule of the road?"

Though not a seaman, I had always heard that a vessel in motion is bound to avoid one that is at rest. I knew, moreover, that a steamship was bound to make way for a sailing vessel.

Va.s.sileffsky cursed the rule of the road.

"It will be a question of evidence," he exclaimed. "My word against a dirty fisherman's. What do you say?"

I pretended to be thoroughly satisfied. Still, knowing what I did of the Russian character, I had some hope that the Captain was boasting in order to impress me, and that he would not really dare to run down a British vessel within reach of the sh.o.r.es of England.

Our conversation was interrupted by a gun.

As the report died away, a junior officer ran down the companionway, helter-skelter, and burst into the cabin.

"Something's up, sir," he cried to his commander. "They are signaling from the Admiral's ship."

Va.s.sileffsky darted up the steps and on to the bridge, and I followed.

The Baltic fleet presented a striking spectacle. Every vessel was busily reporting the signals from the flag ship, the launches were dashing to and fro, and there was every sign of bustle and activity.

The signal officer read out Admiral Rojestvensky's order:

"The fleet will proceed to Libau to-day _en route_ to the East.

Anchors will be weighed at noon. By order of the Czar."

M. Auguste had failed me at last!

With the frightful boasts of Va.s.sileffsky still ringing in my ears, I felt that I must make one effort to stay its departure.

"This news compels me to return to Petersburg immediately," I told the Captain. "Have the goodness to put me ash.o.r.e at once."

For a moment or two the Russian made no answer. I glanced at him curiously.

His face had gone suddenly livid. His limbs were trembling. He gave me the dull look of a man stupefied by fear.

"The j.a.panese!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in a thick voice.

I seized him by the arm.

"Are you pretending?" I whispered.

He gave me a savage glance.

"It's true!" he said. "Those devils will be up to something. It's all over with the fleet. No one believes we shall ever see Port Arthur."

Grave and pre-occupied, I went ash.o.r.e and caught a fast train to Petersburg.

It was late when I got to the little house on the Alexander Quay. The faithful Breuil received me with a serious face.

"Fauchette is here," he announced.

"Fauchette?"

"Yes. She has some news for you."

"Let me see her."

I strode in front to my study, where I was immediately joined by the maid, who appeared not a little alarmed.

I never like to see my a.s.sistants agitated.

"Sit down, my good girl," I said soothingly. "Do not be afraid; I know what pains you take to serve me. Now, what is it?"

"Madame has dismissed me."

I had feared as much.

"On what grounds?"

"She gave none, except that she was leaving home."

I p.r.i.c.ked up my ears.

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

"Yes, to her estates in the country."

"It was a lie, I suppose. She had come to suspect you, had she not?"

"Since Monsieur's escape, I fear yes."

"And have you ascertained----?"

"The Princess has left Petersburg by the midday train for----"

"For?" I broke in impatiently.

"For Berlin."

I rang the bell. Breuil appeared.

"Have you got the tickets?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And my dress as a pilot of the Kiel Ca.n.a.l?"