It must have been in his sleep, then, for he had no recollection of it! Adventures he had known in plenty, but to save the life of either woman or girl was a pleasure that had never yet fallen to his lot, and he said so. The Princess gave a half-smile. “It was an event so strange that I do not wonder at your failing to connect me with it.” A more puzzling statement, this, since the very strangeness of the affair should surely be an additional reason for stamping it upon his memory. As Wilfrid looked intently at her in the vain attempt to discover her meaning, he saw an awful change pass over her face. Dilated eyes, lips drawn apart, and cheeks perfectly bloodless—all showed her to be seized by a sudden sense of fear. A moment more and Wilfrid, too, felt fear, not on his own account, but on hers. A murmuring of voices and the sound of footsteps were audible on the other side of the bedroom door. A little crowd was congregating in the corridor without. What was the cause of the gathering? His striking of the flint had been accompanied by very little noise. The voices of both the Princess and himself had been scarcely loud enough to penetrate beyond the room. Why, then, was attention becoming drawn to the Princess’s bed-chamber? Had Nadia become aware of her error? Was she outside, testifying to others that she had mistakenly conducted an English traveller to this chamber? Had the Princess’s retinue gone to the bedroom intended as his and found it empty? Had they then decided to search the Princess’s bed-chamber? The discovery of a man at the dead of night in the bedroom of a lady, who had let fifteen minutes elapse without raising an alarm, would certainly place her in a compromising situation. The confused murmur outside ceased. Then came a gentle tapping upon the panels of the door. Now if Wilfrid had followed his own impulse he would at once have opened the door, and explained the matter precisely as it had happened, being of opinion that the truthful way is always the best way, but on glancing at the Princess he saw her with her finger upon her lips, which action he took as a sign that he was not to speak. In the silence of that trying moment he could almost hear the beating of her heart. The knocking was renewed, being followed this time by a turning of the handle and a pressure against the door, which did not yield since, as previously stated, Wilfrid upon entering had locked it. “What is it?” cried the Princess, striving to subdue the tremors of her voice. “Did not your highness call us?” was the reply, delivered in a deep bass voice, which Wilfrid immediately recognised to be that of Prince Ouvaroff, or, as Nadia had impolitely called him, the Ugly One.