While kneeling on the floor at this task he more than once fancied that he caught a sound like a sigh, and at the moment of obtaining the light he became convinced of the reality of the sounds. A regular succession of light breathings gave audible proof that he was not the only person in the room. Rising to his feet and holding the lamp on high, Wilfrid looked about him, and discovered that the breathings came from a bed a little distance off. Curtains hanging around the bed prevented him from seeing the sleeper. It was clear that through some strange blunder Nadia had shown him to the wrong room. Then—— “By Jove!” muttered Wilfrid. His eyes had fallen upon a startling sight—startling, that is, in the sense of being unexpected. There, orderly disposed upon a chair by the dressing-table was a pile of fair undergarments, while beneath the same chair there peeped forth a pair of satin shoes formed only for the smallest of feet. [Illustration: RISING TO HIS FEET AND HOLDING THE LAMP ON HIGH, WILFRID LOOKED ABOUT HIM. “_By Neva’s Waters._” _Page 34._] The person behind the curtains was not a man! Fortunately Wilfrid’s movements had been so noiseless as not to disturb the occupant. His obvious course, then, was immediate retirement. He was on the point of stealing off when his eye was caught by sparkles of light coming from a jewel-case that lay upon the dressing-table. It did not require the knowledge of a lapidary to pronounce that the rich gems and the wrought gold represented a very large amount of money. The owner was, obviously a lady of wealth, and—Shrine of Venus!—there could not be a doubt about it; he was standing in the very bed-chamber of the fair boyarine! Nadia, paying too much attention, perhaps, to Wilfrid’s talking, had not noticed that instead of ascending to the _third_ landing and taking the corridor that led from that, she had mistakenly stopped and turned when upon the _second_ landing, with the result that Wilfrid, instead of being in the room immediately above that of the boyarine, was in the boyarine’s room itself! “What would the Ugly One with the spurs and moustaches think,” muttered Wilfrid grimly, “if he knew of my presence here?” The sooner he withdrew the better. He had already been in the room more than ten minutes. If Nadia should recall her error, and should come flying back with clamour, the issue might be awkward, both for the lady and himself. Just as he was about to make for the door his ear detected a movement in the bed. His heart almost leaped to his throat. Some instinct told him that the movement was not an unconscious stirring in slumber; the lady was wide awake, and remembering that she had gone to sleep in the dark, was doubtless puzzling herself to account for the light now shining through her bed-curtains.