which had struck him, although there was nothing new or
striking in the room.

Suddenly there rang out the low deep note of the clock on the wall.

With some uneasiness he turned to look at it, but almost at the same
moment the other door opened, and the butler, Alexey Yegorytch came in.
He had in one hand a greatcoat, a scarf, and a hat, and in the other a
silver tray with a note on it.

"Half-past nine," he announced softly, and laying the other things on a
chair, he held out the tray with the note--a scrap of paper unsealed and
scribbled in pencil. Glancing through it, Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch took
a pencil from the table, added a few words, and put the note back on the
tray.

"Take it back as soon as I have gone out, and now dress me," he said,
getting up from the sofa.

Noticing that he had on a light velvet jacket, he thought a minute,
and told the man to bring him a cloth coat, which he wore on more
ceremonious occasions. At last, when he was dressed and had put on his
hat, he locked the door by which his mother had come into the room, took
the letter from under the paperweight, and without saying a word went
out into the corridor, followed by Alexey Yegorytch. From the corridor
they went down the narrow stone steps of the back stairs to a passage
which opened straight into the garden. In the corner stood a lantern and
a big umbrella.

"Owing to the excessive rain the mud in the streets is beyond anything,"
Alexey Yegorytch announced, making a final effort to deter his master
from the expedition. But opening his umbrella the latter went without
a word into the damp and sodden garden, which was dark as a cellar. The
wind was roaring and tossing the bare tree-tops. The little sandy
paths were wet and slippery. Alexey Yegorytch walked along as he was,
bareheaded, in his swallow-tail coat, lighting up the path for about
three steps before them with the lantern.

"Won't it be noticed?" Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch asked suddenly.

"Not from the windows. Besides I have seen to all that already," the old
servant answered in quiet and measured tones.

"Has my mother retired?"

"Her excellency locked herself in at nine o'clock as she has done the
last few days, and there is no possibility of her knowing anything. At
what hour am I to expect your honour?"

"At one or half-past, not later than two."

"Yes, sir."

Crossing the garden by the winding paths that they both knew by heart,
they reached the stone wall, a