At the moment when, floating on the ice, the girl had uttered a cry on seeing the fire spreading along the current, Michael had seized her in his arms, and plunged with her into the river itself to seek a refuge in its depths from the flames. The block which bore them was not thirty fathoms from the first quay of Irkutsk. Swimming beneath the water, Michael managed to get a footing with Nadia on the quay. Michael Strogoff had reached his journey’s end! He was in Irkutsk! “To the governor’s palace!” said he to Nadia. In less than ten minutes, they arrived at the entrance to the palace. Long tongues of flame from the Angara licked its walls, but were powerless to set it on fire. Beyond the houses on the bank were in a blaze. The palace being open to all, Michael and Nadia entered without difficulty. In the confusion, no one remarked them, although their garments were dripping. A crowd of officers coming for orders, and of soldiers running to execute them, filled the great hall on the ground floor. There, in a sudden eddy of the confused multitude, Michael and the young girl were separated from each other. Nadia ran distracted through the passages, calling her companion, and asking to be taken to the Grand Duke. A door into a room flooded with light opened before her. She entered, and found herself suddenly face to face with the man whom she had met at Ichim, whom she had seen at Tomsk; face to face with the one whose villainous hand would an instant later betray the town! “Ivan Ogareff!” she cried. On hearing his name pronounced, the wretch started. His real name known, all his plans would be balked. There was but one thing to be done: to kill the person who had just uttered it. Ogareff darted at Nadia; but the girl, a knife in her hand, retreated against the wall, determined to defend herself. “Ivan Ogareff!” again cried Nadia, knowing well that so detested a name would soon bring her help. “Ah! Be silent!” hissed out the traitor between his clenched teeth. “Ivan Ogareff!” exclaimed a third time the brave young girl, in a voice to which hate had added ten-fold strength. Mad with fury, Ogareff, drawing a dagger from his belt, again rushed at Nadia and compelled her to retreat into a corner of the room. Her last hope appeared gone, when the villain, suddenly lifted by an irresistible force, was dashed to the ground. “Michael!” cried Nadia. It was Michael Strogoff. Michael had heard Nadia’s call. Guided by her voice, he had just in time reached Ivan Ogareff’s room, and entered by the open door. “Fear nothing, Nadia,” said he, placing himself between her and Ogareff. “Ah!” cried the girl, “take care, brother! The traitor is armed! He can see!” Ogareff rose, and, thinking he had an immeasurable advantage over the blind man leaped upon him. But with one hand, the blind man grasped the arm of his enemy, seized his weapon, and hurled him again to the ground.