De Richleau was in a slightly better state, but he was weary and haggard. Centuries seemed to have passed since they had left their comfortable compartment on the Trans-Siberian. With grim humour he suddenly realized that the same train had only that afternoon steamed into Irkutsk. He was brought back to the present by seeing the stretcher-bearers set down their burden, and Rex stumble forward in a heap.
“If Mademoiselle will keep a watchful eye on our friend,” he suggested, indicating Rakov, “I will attend to the boy.”
He shook Rex roughly by the shoulder. “What the hell!” exclaimed Rex, crossly, as he hunched his back against a tree.
“Stand up, man!” said the Duke, sternly. “You cannot sleep yet. Come, Rex,” he added, earnestly. “Another half-hour, no more. I will make a reconnaissance, and if all is well we can bed down in some corner for the night. If you sleep now I shall never be able to wake you on my return, and you are too big to carry! Keep moving, my friend, I beg.”
Rex struggled to his feet. “O.K.” he said, wearily. “My head’s aching fit to burst, but I’ll be all right.”
After a short consultation with the girl, the Duke crept forward through the gates. He made a great circuit this time, approaching the house from the front; no sound came from the gaunt pile of masonry.
The moon had risen, but it was a night of scurrying clouds; the light was fitful and uncertain; big flakes of snow began to fall. De Richleau blessed their luck, for it would hide their tracks from the cottage. He lingered for a little in the trees, examining first one part of the Château, then another, as the light gave occasion. He could make out no sign of movement.
The greatest caution he mounted the steps to the great roofless entrance hall; it was still and deserted. The room in which Leshkin had examined them must surely be the danger-spot if the place were still occupied. The Duke edged down the passage, holding his pistol ready. The door stood open and the room was empty. He re-crossed the hall to the big salon, here, too, the silent man who had stood waiting in the darkness had disappeared — the window to the terrace stood open just as he had left it.
The Duke breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was a man of immense determination; in his chequered career he had faced many desperate situations. That he was in the depths of Siberia, fifteen hundred miles from the European frontier, that their enemies had wireless, aeroplanes, and machine-guns, did not matter. One thing, and one thing only, was essential — they must have rest.
Given the strength of Rex, rested and refreshed — given Simon, able to travel again and use his subtle brain — given his own experience and courage renewed after he had slept — they would get through. How — he did not attempt to think — but somehow. Thank God the Château was unoccupied, and they could get that blessed rest.