“A senator, a dignitary, a great personage, the very man—­He!”

A strange softening emotion came over Razumov—­made his knees shake a little.  He repressed it with a new-born austerity.  All that sentiment was pernicious nonsense.  He couldn’t be quick enough; and when he got into a sledge he shouted to the driver—­“to the K—–­ Palace.  Get on—­you!  Fly!” The startled moujik, bearded up to the very whites of his eyes, answered obsequiously—­

“I hear, your high Nobility.”

It was lucky for Razumov that Prince K—–­ was not a man of timid character.  On the day of Mr. de P—–­’s murder an extreme alarm and despondency prevailed in the high official spheres.

Prince K—–­, sitting sadly alone in his study, was told by his alarmed servants that a mysterious young man had forced his way into the hall, refused to tell his name and the nature of his business, and would not move from there till he had seen his Excellency in private.  Instead of locking himself up and telephoning for the police, as nine out of ten high personages would have done that evening, the Prince gave way to curiosity and came quietly to the door of his study.

In the hall, the front door standing wide open, he recognised at once Razumov, pale as death, his eyes blazing, and surrounded by perplexed lackeys.

The Prince was vexed beyond measure, and even indignant.  But his humane instincts and a subtle sense of self-respect could not allow him to let this young man be thrown out into the street by base menials.  He retreated unseen into his room, and after a little rang his bell.  Razumov heard in the hall an ominously raised harsh voice saying somewhere far away—­

“Show the gentleman in here.”

Razumov walked in without a tremor.  He felt himself invulnerable—­raised far above the shallowness of common judgment.  Though he saw the Prince looking at him with black displeasure, the lucidity of his mind, of which he was very conscious, gave him an extraordinary assurance.  He was not asked to sit down.

Half an hour later they appeared in the hall together.  The lackeys stood up, and the Prince, moving with difficulty on his gouty feet, was helped into his furs.  The carriage had been ordered before.  When the great double door was flung open with a crash, Razumov, who had been standing silent with a lost gaze but with every faculty intensely on the alert, heard the Prince’s voice—­

“Your arm, young man.”

The mobile, superficial mind of the ex-Guards officer, man of showy missions, experienced in nothing but the arts of gallant intrigue and worldly success, had been equally impressed by the more obvious difficulties of such a situation and by Razumov’s quiet dignity in stating them.

He had said, “No.  Upon the whole I can’t condemn the step you ventured to take by coming to me with your story.  It is not an affair for police understrappers.  The greatest importance is attached to....  Set your mind at rest.  I shall see you through this most extraordinary and difficult situation.”