And yawning, and moving very lightly, the old general went back to his bed. CHAPTER XXIII THE LAST CARD Drexel turned from the Valenko mansion a few minutes before Berloff and his party entered it. Though harrowed by the evening’s misfortune, there was a minor matter of which he had to think as he slipped cautiously away--whither should he take himself? He could return to the Hotel Europe, and there be safe, if he but kept near his uncle’s family and had no communication with the revolutionists; but this would be equivalent to deserting Sonya, and deserting her in the hour of her direst need. Sabatoff was still at liberty; if they two could consult there was a chance, slender to be sure, but still a chance, that they could evolve some plan whereby Sonya and the other prisoners might be saved. Whatever the danger to himself, he would try for that slender chance. But where should he go for the night? His home of the past week was ashes, his friends scattered or under arrest; to go to an hotel, no matter how obscure, would be a dangerous risk, with all the city’s police and spies on the watch for him; and as for walking the street this arctic night, it meant, if not capture, then at least a possible death from freezing. He knew the address of but one free revolutionist, Sabatoff, and to go to him at such a suspicious hour involved the likelihood of bringing disaster upon that important person. But somewhere he had to go, and Sabatoff’s was the only where; and toward his house he set out. Sabatoff, he judged, would hardly be asleep after the evening’s catastrophe, and would himself answer his ring. If one of the Czar-loving servants came to the door, he would leave some message in keeping with his gendarme’s uniform and go away. After half an hour’s walk Drexel came to Sabatoff’s house. He searched the street with his eyes; it was empty, and confident that he was unobserved, he stepped quickly into the doorway and rang. There was a long wait; then steps sounded and the door opened. He had been right in his conjecture. The person at the door was Sabatoff. “It is I--Drexel,” he whispered. Sabatoff drew him in. “Quick, then--and silent.” With no other word the official led the way up a flight of stairs and into a room which Drexel saw was the library. In a minute footsteps shuffled by. Sabatoff opened the door an inch. “You need not bother, Pavel,” he called. “I answered the ring. It was only a telegram.” There was a sleepy mumble, then the footsteps faded away toward the top of the house.