Just then the sound of carriage-wheels was audible in the courtyard below, amid much noise and the harsh tones of a man's voice. "Make haste away! The Grand Duke is coming!" the pale lady whispered to Krizsanowski. He, rising, took her hand in his. Again the duenna appeared, this time rushing in, and saying, breathlessly: "The Grand Duke is back from the manœuvres. Just as they drove in at the gate one of the horses stumbled, the outrider was thrown, and the Grand Duke's pipe was so jolted that it broke one of his front teeth. He is wild with rage." "Alas!" exclaimed the lady, and was hastening out. Krizsanowski held her back. "You would do well just now to keep out of his way." "On the contrary, it is just now that I must hurry to him," she answered, freeing herself from Krizsanowski's hold. "But you hasten away from here, that no one sees you." "Well, then, be strong as a woman," he murmured, and disappeared. Yet it was so difficult to disappear. Krizsanowski was in the palace of Belvedere, in the royal park of Lazienka, the residence of the Polish Viceroy, outside Warsaw. The park was surrounded by a great wall, guarded on all sides by armed soldiers. The castle itself a fortress, with high bastions and intrenchments, a deep moat round it, and drawbridge; every outlet was protected by an embrasure, there was no evading the sentries. Within cannon-range the noble forest-trees had been cleared away, and turf laid down adorned with tulip-beds. It is humanly impossible to go or come unperceived. And yet Krizsanowski did succeed in getting away, although Grand Duke Constantine had had the Belvedere built to his own plan, and had watched its construction with his own eyes. It was impossible that there should be any secret passage unknown to him--and yet, supposing one did exist? The architect had been a Pole. He was capable of constructing a secret passage by night, and so building it up again that the Grand Duke had no notion of its existence. And so it really was. Constantine might have been surprised in his bed any night were not assassination detestable to a Pole. His wife hurried out to meet him. The tyrant met her in the armory hall. He was exactly as his contemporaries have described. Imagination had not run riot.