I leaped from the sill and, forgetting Matveief and his diplomacy, hastened to the door. The knocking was now followed by a scratching sound that had become familiar to me.
“Maluta,” I said, “is it you?”
“Yea, O my master!” replied the shrill voice of the dwarf. “I have been trying to find you.”
“Can you undo the door?” I demanded.
“Nay,” he replied, “I have tried, but ’tis double-locked with strong iron locks, and neither can I get the keys. They are in the bosom of the fat chamberlain.”
“Canst get a mallet to me?” I asked. “In this excitement no one will heed you.”
“I cannot get it to you, save by the window,” said Maluta, “even if I can find one—have you tried the window?”
“’Tis a sheer leap on to the spears of the Streltsi,” I said drily.
There was a silence on the other side of the door for a moment, and in the pause I heard someone speaking on the Red Staircase.
Afterwards, I knew it was the second in command of the Department of the Streltsi, Prince Dolgoruky, and it was he who let the lions loose.