At length the darkness of the fifth evening settled like a black sediment into Three Saints’ Court, and found all in readiness. Sonya, Drexel and the housekeeper were on duty in the house to receive Borodin and aid his quick transformation; the others were assigned to assist his flight hither from the prison. On the table in Ivan’s room stood a bottle of hair-dye, and beside it were a pair of scissors and shaving utensils; across a chair lay a new suit of clothes; at nine o’clock, the hour set, a swift horse would wait in a side street. Thirty minutes after the bearded, brown-haired prison guard entered, a black-haired, smooth-chinned business man would ride off to the railway station. As the appointed hour drew on, Sonya and Drexel hardly spoke. Sonya, tense, nervous, paced to and fro; and Drexel, in almost equal suspense, watched her pale strained face. How glad he would be when Borodin had come and gone and her dangerous task was ended, for though he had rejoiced in this close comradeship, he loved her far too dearly not to wish her safely out of this great and constant peril. The bells of Three Saints’ Church rang seven. Two more hours, and all would be under way. CHAPTER XIX THE BATTLE IN THREE SAINTS’ COURT As the bells of the little church ceased tolling seven Sonya paused a moment from her pacing. “Just about now they’ll be slipping his uniform into his cell,” she said. “Yes,” said Drexel. “Ah--I do hope that nothing will go wrong!” she breathed. She resumed her restless pacing, and again the silence of suspense settled between them. Presently they heard a knock below. Soon the housekeeper entered and held out a letter to Drexel. “A messenger just brought it,” he said. The note was on heavy fashionable paper and gave off an odour of violets. Drexel glanced it through, and let out a low cry. “What is it?” asked Sonya. “Listen. ‘Come to me instantly. Do not fail. It is a matter of life-and-death importance.’ The note is from Countess Baronova.” Sonya thought for a moment. “You must go,” she said. “Not till this affair is over,” he returned. “I cannot leave you.” “You must go. She would not have sent that unless the matter was of truly great importance. You can be back in an hour; Borodin will not be here till nine.” He yielded to her judgment, and half an hour later he rang the bell of the countess’s apartment. A maid ushered him into the drawing-room and told him the countess would be in immediately. But one minute passed--three--five--ten--and no countess. His patience would wait no longer. He opened the entrance door and rang the apartment bell. The maid reappeared. “Tell the countess that I will return later,” he said. But on the instant a voice called out, “Wait, Mr. Drexel,” and the countess came toward him through the hall. She was strikingly dressed, as always; but she was even more pale, more worn, than when he had last seen her, and there was a new agitation in her manner.