Now try again-sound the "General Alarm".'
'Pa -pa-pah -pa-pah', shrieked the bugle, reducing the school's rat population to terror.
Twilight was swiftly advancing over the assembly hall, where Malyshev and Turbin stood beside the ranks of piled rifles.
Colonel Malyshev frowned slightly in Turbin's direction, but at once arranged his face into an affable smile.
'Well, doctor, how are things?
Is all well in the medical section?'
'Yes, colonel.'
'You can go home now, doctor.
And tell your orderlies they can go too, but they must report back here at seven o'clock with the others.
And you . . . (Malyshev reflected, frowned) ... I should like you to report here tomorrow at two o'clock in the afternoon.
Until then you're free. (Malyshev thought again) And there's one other thing: you'd better not wear your shoulder-straps. (Malyshev looked embarrassed) It is not part of our plans to draw attention to ourselves.
So, in a word, just be back here at two o'clock tomorrow.'
'Very good, sir.'
Turbin shuffled his feet.
Malyshev took out a cigarette case and offered him a cigarette, for which Turbin lit a match.
Two little red stars glowed, emphasising how much darker it had grown.
Malyshev glanced awkwardly upward at the dim white globes of the hall's arc-lamps, then turned and went out into the passage.
'Lieutenant Myshlaevsky, come here, please.
I am putting you in full charge of the electric light in this building.
Try and get the lights switched on as quickly as possible.
Please have it organised so that at any moment you can not only put all the lights on, but also switch them off.
Responsibility for the lighting is entirely yours.'
Myshlaevsky saluted and faced sharply about.
The bugler gave a squeak and stopped.
Spurs jingling - ca-link, ca-link, ca-link - Myshlaevsky ran down the main staircase so fast that he seemed to be skating down it.
A minute later the sound of his hammering fists and barked commands could be heard from somewhere in the depths of the building.
This was followed by a sudden blaze of light in the main downstairs lobby, which threw a faint reflected glow over the portrait of Alexander I.
Malyshev was so delighted that his mouth even fell open slightly and he turned to Alexei Turbin:
'Well, I'm damned . . .
Now there's an officer for you!
Did you see that?'
A figure appeared at the bottom and began slowly climbing up the staircase.
Malyshev and Turbin were able to make out who it was as he reached the first landing.
The figure advanced on doddering, infirm legs, his white head shaking, and wore a broad double-breasted tunic with silver buttons and bright green lapels.
An enormous key dangled in his shaking hand.
Myshlaevsky was following him up the staircase with occasional shouts of encouragement.
'Come on, old boy, speed it up!
You're crawling along like a flea on a tightrope.'
'Your . . . your', mumbled the old man as he shuffled along.
Karas emerged out of the gloom on the landing, followed by another, tall officer, then by two cadets and finally the pointed snout of a machine-gun.
The white-haired figure stumbled, bent down and bowed to the waist in the direction of the machine-gun.
'Your . . . your honor', muttered the figure.
The figure arrived at the top of the stairs, and with shaking hands, fumbling in the dark, opened a long oblong box on the wall from which shone a white spot of light.
The old man thrust his hand in, there was a click and instantly the upper landing, the corridor and the entrance to the assembly hall were flooded with light.
The darkness rolled away to the ends of the corridor.
Mysh-laevsky immediately took possession of the key and thrust his hand inside the box where he began to try out the rows of black switches.
Light, so blinding that it even seemed to be shot with pink, flared up and vanished again.
The globes in the assembly hall were lit and then extinguished.
Two globes at the far ends of the corridor suddenly blazed into life and the darkness somersaulted away altogether.
'How's that?' shouted Myshlaevsky.