Pavlof marvelled at Palma's careless ease in face of so imminent a danger. For, if Sokolof's telegram passed quickly through from point to point, and reached the Minister's hands, and was deemed worthy of prompt attention, discovery was unavoidable, and the results to Serge himself must be disastrous. But he sat there smoking as coolly as if he had not a care in the world, and Paul came to believe that the forethought which had devised so bold a scheme must have provided also for such a contingency as this. But Palma's calmness was simply the courage of a brave man who had calculated the chances in his favour. He had done all he could to improve them by delaying the telegram. Now he awaited the result with, at all events, outward equanimity. It was then ten o'clock at night. Taking into account the difference of time between Kara and St. Petersburg, it would probably be five or six in the evening before the telegram reached its destination. The chances were that the Minister would not be at his office--one chance to the good. Again the chances were that the telegram would take considerably longer in transmission from station to station over those 4,000 miles of desert--another chance to the good. Even if it got to the Minister that night it was incredible that he should remember who Serge Palma was, without inquiry and the turning up of dossiers, all of which meant time and trouble. And why should the great man worry himself unduly over so very small an affair as the sending, or not sending, of a poor devil of a political to Yakutsk?--several chances to the good there. If they troubled to investigate at all they would discover that some mistake had been made by some one. But mistakes--and very terrible mistakes--were constantly being made. If Serge Palma had been ordered to Yakutsk by some one, some one naturally must have had very good reason for so doing. Serge Palma would be as safe at Yakutsk as at Kara, and it is an awkward thing to interfere with accomplished facts without very good grounds for doing so--a galaxy of chances to the good in all that. And Serge's mind had flashed over them as the smoke curled lazily through his moustache, and he felt fairly safe. And so he sipped his vodka as quietly as if he had been in a Petersburg café without a care on his mind. Pavlof's mind had been so jangled by the day's happenings that it was not working as sharply and clearly as usual. He would not have been in the least surprised if the orderly had walked in at any moment with a telegram from headquarters exploding the mine on which they sat. If he could have spoken privately to Serge he would have urged him to leave them to their fate and flee while yet there was time. But he had no chance of speaking, since Sokolof never left his guest, and, finding the atmosphere too electrical for his tight-strung nerves, he begged the captain's permission to retire, on the plea of packing his belongings for the journey.