"Ah! You have not heard, Serge?" The words came in a nervous torrent. "He died when he was three months old.--We did our best, Marya Ostronaya and I, but we could not keep him.--And truly, Serge, I was so broken with it all that I was glad when God took him. Did you not find Masha, then?" "She died two months before I got there." "Dear old Masha! She was very faithful. It broke her heart to be sent away, but I could not take her with me. Who told you I had come here, then?" "Nobody. I knew you, that was enough. That was my only fear in getting away--that we might pass one another on the road." "Then you did not know for certain till you got here?" "Not till I got here. As soon as I heard that Madame Palma had come out to join her husband I put two and two together. I knew it must be you." "And now--do you think it possible we can get clear away, Serge?" "We will try for it anyway," he said valiantly. "How do we go?" asked Pavlof. "Up into the mountains to mislead them. Then down again to the Amur and the Vladivostok road." "Won't that be dangerous?" "Not for us. I have fresh papers, giving you your freedom and ordering me to see you safely out of Russian territory." "You are well provided. How did you manage it?" "You remember Egor Anenkof? He is employed in the Ministry of the Interior and is a most useful man. He has worked for years to get into his present position, with the sole object of being of service to his friends in trouble. Some day he will be found out and then he will come to the mines. However, there are others." "Who are these two with you?" she asked. "Loris Blok and Alex Rimof. They are from Moscow. I had to have orderlies. That was where Muishkin made his mistake. They are capital fellows and bold as lions. If it should come to a fight they will be delighted. In fact they will be somewhat disappointed if it does not, I'm afraid." "Oh, I hope there is no chance of that," said Hope anxiously. "We will hope not," said Palma, with a quick glance at Paul, which showed him that she had heard nothing of the telegram. "But if they should find out the trick and try to stop us we shall have--well, we shall have to argue the point." CHAPTER XXVI HOW THEY FOUGHT IN THE CLEFT The route Palma had chosen, when at last they turned off the posting road, was a little-used track leading up into the Yablonois, rough travelling amid broken black hills, whose feet were sparsely clad with ancient growths of larch and fir, and their crests powdered with snow. At times the way led through dark defiles, with brawling streams gnashing sudden white teeth at them as they passed, and then they were crawling slowly over rugged humps of the hills, amid ever-increasing desolation and a loneliness that grew more and more profound.