rder to keep them both from Natacha, in whom,
of course, I have the most complete confidence, but one cannot be sure
about the extravagance of men nowadays."

Ermolai came to announce the petit-dejeuner. They found Natacha already
at table and she poured them coffee and milk, eating away all the time
at a sandwich of anchovies and caviare.

"Tell me, mamma, do you know what gives me such an appetite? It is the
thought of the way poor Koupriane must have taken this dismissal of his
men. I should like to go to see him."

"If you see him," said Rouletabille, "it is unnecessary to tell him that
the general will go for a long promenade among the isles this afternoon,
because without fail he would send us an escort of gendarmes."

"Papa! A promenade among the islands? Truly? Oh, that is going to be
lovely!"

Matrena Petrovna sprang to her feet.

"Are you mad, my dear little domovoi, actually mad?"

"Why? Why? It is fine. I must run and tell papa."

"Your father's room is locked," said Matrena brusquely.

"Yes, yes; he is locked in. You have the key. Locked away until death!
You will kill him. It will be you who kills him."

She left the table without waiting for a reply and went and shut herself
also in her chamber.

Matrena looked at Rouletabille, who continued his breakfast as though
nothing had happened.

"Is it possible that you speak seriously?" she demanded, coming over and
sitting down beside him. "A promenade! Without the police, when we have
received again this morning a letter saying now that before forty-eight
hours the general will be dead!"

"Forty-eight hours," said Rouletabille, soaking his bread in his
chocolate, "forty-eight hours? It is possible. In any case, I know they
will try something very soon."

"My God, how is it that you believe that? You speak with assurance."

"Madame, it is necessary to do everything I tell you, to the letter."

"But to have the general go out, unless he is guarded--how can you take
such a responsibility? When I think about it, when I really think about
it, I ask myself how you have dared send away the police. But here, at
least, I know what to do in order to feel a little safe, I know that
downstairs with Gniagnia and Ermolai we have nothing to fear. No
stranger can approach even the basement. The provisions are brought from
the lodge by our dvornicks whom we have had sent from my mother's home
in the Orel country and who are as devoted to us as bull-dogs. Not