Sabatoff answered with the quiet of one long accustomed to tragedies such as this, who himself expected some day to be a victim. “The hope that General Valenko might save them was our last and only chance.” “But we cannot just sit here and watch that clock creep round to four!” Drexel sprang up desperately. “Can’t we at least go out and publicly proclaim the identity of Sonya and Borodin? In hotels, restaurants, theatres!” “What will that do?” “Why, the roused public will never let the prince and princess of so great a family die on the scaffold!” “Even if we succeeded in rousing the people, they could not move the Government.” “But let’s try, man!” “If so high an official as General Valenko tried to save them and was arrested, what can the people do? No, that plan would only be a vain waste of these last few hours.” “But, God, there must be something we can do!” “I wish there was!” groaned Sabatoff. Drexel dropped into a chair and buried his face in his hands, and tried with pure muscle to press an idea from his aching forehead. But he could not long sit thus. He paced the floor--thinking--thinking--wildly thinking. He looked at the clock. “Half past ten!” he breathed, and continued his frantic walk. Sabatoff’s eyes followed him in keen sympathy; deeply as he felt the impending tragedy on his own account, he felt an especial pang on Drexel’s, for it was easy guessing what lay behind Drexel’s agonized concern. Suddenly Drexel paused. A tense excitement dawned upon his face. His strange look drew Sabatoff to his feet. “What is it?” Drexel tried to speak calmly. “Was not Borodin, when first arrested, held in some other prison?” “Yes, in the Central Prison.” “And the reason you did not know where he was, was because he had been secretly removed?” “Yes.” “These removals are common, are they not? Especially into a stronger prison?” “Yes.” “Is there a stronger prison in Russia than Peter and Paul?” “None.” “But are not prisoners sometimes transferred from Peter and Paul?” “Many of the most feared life-prisoners are sent to Schlusselburg.” “Yes--I remember now. And where is Schlusselburg?” “Forty versts away, on an island in Lake Ladoga. But, Mr. Drexel--what are you driving at?” Drexel clutched the other’s shoulder and the excitement he had repressed now blazed forth. “We are going to remove Sonya and Borodin to Schlusselburg!” Sabatoff stared. “Remove them to Schlusselburg?” he repeated blankly. “Yes--to Schlusselburg!” “Are you out of your head?” “Or at least Schlusselburg is where we will pretend to start for. But once out of Peter and Paul we march solemnly along for a way, then----” “Then disappear. I see that. Once out of Peter and Paul, the rest is easy. But how will you get them out?” “By an order.” “By an order?” “Yes, by an order! You have all kinds of official blanks, you have copies of the signatures of all important officials. By an order made out by you.”