Zouroff, at this particular moment, was not in a very enviable frame of mind. Optimist as he was, and a believer in his own star, he could not disguise from himself the fact that his two efforts at kidnapping had not been attended with any remarkable success. Corsini, through treachery on the part of his associates, had been rescued at Pavlovsk. And last night, the deaf and inarticulate Stepan, suffering, no doubt, from momentary aberration, had driven off in the darkness with the young Princess and her maid--whither, he knew not. He sat up till the small hours of the morning, awaiting the return of that carriage. Stepan would come back to his senses and drive back for further instructions. But the carriage did not return. At length Zouroff dismissed his two confederates. "Let Stepan return when he will, or never return, it does not matter," he said impatiently. What did small things like this matter? A carriage stranded, two helpless and drugged women inside, recognised later on. By the time this could be brought home to him, he would be in such a position that he could hush-up all inquiries. He strolled round to the Villa Quéro. The servant who opened the door knew him well, of course. "I am grieved to tell you, Excellency, that our dear mistress died in the early hours of the morning." "I am very grieved to hear it," said the hypocritical Zouroff. "I heard that she was taken ill at the Opera yesterday evening. It was sudden, was it not?" "Very sudden, your Excellency. The doctor seems to think that she was poisoned." "Poisoned! Good Heavens!" cried Zouroff. "But who could want to poison such a charming woman, so generally beloved?" The servant shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, who can tell? Perhaps some envious rival. The post-mortem may possibly tell us something." The Prince walked away quite easy in his mind. Yes, no doubt, the post-mortem would tell them something--that la Quéro had been done to death by a very subtle poison. But he had reasoned it all well out. It would be proved that he had shared a light repast with La Belle Quéro that same evening. It might be proved that he had brought her a box of chocolates, out of which two were missing. They could analyse that box of chocolates. They would find no poison in them. There was only poison in one, the one that he had picked out as a fine fat fellow and which she had crunched greedily between her strong white teeth. That same morning Stepan woke up from his deep stupor in the mean lodging of Ivan the Cuckoo. "Where am I?" was his first question, as he opened his heavy eyelids. Ivan bent over him, till his bearded face was close to that of the dazed man. "You are with your old friend and comrade. Last night I took the liberty of playing a little trick upon you. You will forgive me when I tell you the object of that trick was to ensnare our old enemy, Zouroff."