“Not here?” I rushed into the inner room, only to find it empty; but on the floor lay a woman’s glove, a glove like the one dropped by Zénaïde in the Kremlin long ago. In an instant I divined the truth. “Where is that rogue?” I exclaimed as I came out. “He has gone, master,” she answered stolidly; “he went down the stairs as soon as you turned your back, and out at the door.” I saw that she at least spoke the truth, and ran to the outer door; but there was no sign of the dwarf,--he had escaped. I came back, determined to learn the truth from the woman, who, I saw, was a dull tool, little schooled in evasion. “When did the young lady leave here?” I asked her sharply. “About an hour ago, perhaps,” she replied, simply enough, “and much against her will; she would rather have stayed with me.” “Who was with her?” I asked, a horror possessing me. “A tall man, master,” she said slowly. “I did not know him, but he gave the signal and he had the boyar’s signet,--a man with an ill-favored face, and one eye turned in towards the nose, and very long teeth.” There was no difficulty in recognizing the description; it was Viatscheslav. “Did he say where he was going?” I asked, curbing my excitement. “To the Kremlin,” she replied promptly, “and they have scarcely been gone an hour.” Without waiting for another word, I dashed out and turned my steps towards the Kremlin, frenzied with anxiety. CHAPTER XXIV. THE RED STAIRCASE. HAVING had no sleep and scarcely any food for many hours, I was worn out; yet so intense was the mental strain that the physical weakness was little heeded. I had but one thought,--to reach the Kremlin in time to intercede with Sophia for Zénaïde. In the midst of the present trouble, I did not believe that Natalia would oppose the czarevna’s wishes, especially since the death of the Boyar Vladimir Sergheievitch made his niece less important. Her marriage with Naryshkin could no longer insure the loyalty of one of the older nobles. On the other hand, Vladimir’s death and Feodor’s return would have weight with Sophia, on account of Galitsyn’s friendship for the elder boyar. I had no time for reflection, however, as I dashed along at the top of my speed, no longer noticing the deserted streets, and scarcely conscious of the increasing volume of sound that rolled towards me as I approached the Kremlin. The confused roar of a vast multitude, and now and then the roll of a drum or the crash of firearms, filled my ears. Still I heeded them not, but rushing on, reached the outskirts of the crowd that was gathering in every avenue to the five gates of the fortress. I pushed my way amidst the angry, threatening mob, indifferent to the outcry and tumult; but as I approached the Gate of Saint Nicholas of Mojaïsk, it became almost impossible to advance; the entrance was packed, and looking over the heads of those immediately in front, I could see a solid mass of humanity beyond. It was not