This would give the prisoners time to get a brief but much needed rest after their long and miserable journey from Perm, penned up like sheep in iron-barred cattle trucks, and it would leave the drowsiest part of the night, from four o'clock to sunrise, for the hazardous work in hand. "That is a pretty girl you have there, captain," said Colston, as the officer returned to the sitting-room. "Is she for the mines or Sakhalin?" "For Sakhalin by sentence, but as a matter of fact for neither, as far as I can see." "You mean that the Little Father will pardon her or give her a lighter sentence, I suppose." The officer grinned meaningly as he replied-- "_Nu vot!_ That is hardly likely. What I mean is that Captain Kharkov, who is in command of the convict train from here, has had instructions to convey her as comfortably as possible, and with no more fatigue than is necessary, to Tchit, in the Trans-Baikal, and that he is also charged with a letter from the Governor of Perm to the Governor of Tchit. "You know these gentlemen like to do each other a good turn when they can, and so, putting two and two together, I should say that his Excellency of Perm has concluded that our pretty prisoner will serve to beguile the dulness of that Godforsaken hole in which his Excellency of Tchit is probably dying of _ennui_. She will be more comfortable there than at Sakhalin, and it is a lucky thing for her that she has found favour in his Excellency's eyes." Colston could have shot the fellow where he sat leering across the table; but though his blood was at boiling point, he controlled himself sufficiently to make a reply after the same fashion, and soon after took his leave and retired for the night. At four o'clock the guard was changed. The new officer, after taking the keys, unlocked the door of the room in which Natasha and the Princess were confined, and roused them up to satisfy himself that they were still in safe keeping. It was a brutal formality, but perfectly characteristic of Siberian officialism. The man who had been on guard so far joined the patrol and returned to the barracks, while the new officer made himself comfortable with a bottle of brandy, with which Soudeikin had obligingly provided him, in the sitting-room. It was a bitterly cold night, and he drank a couple of glasses of it in quick succession. Ten minutes after he had swallowed the second he rolled backwards on the couch on which he was sitting and went fast asleep. A few moments later he had ceased to breathe. Then the door opened softly and Soudeikin and Colston slipped into the room. The former shook him by the shoulder. His eyes remained half closed, his head lolled loosely from side to side, and his arms hung heavily downwards. "He's gone," whispered Soudeikin; and, without another word, they set to work to strip the uniform off the lifeless body. Then Colston dressed himself in it and gave his own clothes to Soudeikin.