“The courtyard of the Michaelhof,” murmured Wilfrid.
Presently Alexis stopped and put forth his hand; so did Wilfrid, who found his fingers touching damp stone, doubtless the actual wall of the palace itself. Turning to the right Alexis began to follow the course of this wall, stopping at last before what seemed to be a small arched entrance, and producing a key he applied it to the lock of an iron-studded door. Unlocking this, Alexis passed within, followed by Wilfrid. The place was as black as night.
“Make as little noise as possible,” said Alexis in a low tone.
He moved forward through the darkness, and Wilfrid followed in silence, his hand and foot telling him that he was traversing a passage whose walls and floor were of stone.
In a few moments they had come to a wide staircase of oak, dimly visible in the faint light proceeding from some unseen point above.
This staircase gave access to a long and broad gallery, decorated with tapestry and paintings. A few lamps, ranged at regular intervals along the wall, did little more than make the darkness visible.
With the belief, right or wrong, that every corridor in a Czar’s palace is tenanted by an armed sentinel, Wilfrid wondered to see this gallery left unwatched, till it struck him that perhaps this absence of a guard was due to some secret manœuvring on the part of those employing Alexis. Half-way down this gallery Alexis paused, and, opening a door, said:—
“My orders are that you wait here.”
The “here” was a lofty apartment, very richly furnished, its recesses piled high with books, showing that it served the purpose of a library. A handsome reading lamp of bronze with a very bright flame stood upon the central table.
But why it should be ordained that night must for ever rest upon this apartment was a mystery to Wilfrid; yet such was the case. Windows there were none, the spaces that had once let in daylight being now closed with masonry, a walling-up that, judged by appearances, had taken place but recently. Alexis offered no explanation of this singularity; perhaps, being blind, he was not aware of it. Wilfrid could not help noticing how odd was his manner at this moment; he seemed to be under a spell of nervousness, if not of actual fear, his eyes being riveted upon a certain door at the far end of the apartment, as if, blind though he was, he could see something that the other could not see. Turning away, he said:—