Zouroff thought rapidly. "Run round to the villa, Peter, and demand to see Stepan. You can talk to him by signs. Learn what has become of the carriage. Get what you can out of him. By Heaven, when I have done with him he will wish he had never been born." His expression was ferocious as he uttered those last words.

Peter hastened to obey his commands. To-morrow, the Prince might not be his master, but he would obey him as long as he was in his service.

He returned with the news that Stepan was not at the villa. They could draw their own conclusions from his absence.

Zouroff ground his teeth savagely. "Golitzine and Beilski have got him safe between them. Well, never mind, the tables will be turned to-morrow."

He was thinking of the great _coup_ which was to take place at the Winter Palace that night, the great _coup_ which had been so carefully rehea.r.s.ed by himself and his fellow conspirators, the details of which had been overheard by Corsini, in the character of Stepan.

Safe in the custody of the kind and amiable Countess, Nada felt strangely happy. True, she was very anxious about her mother, and some natural compunction a.s.sailed her as to the fate of her brother, in spite of his infamous conduct towards herself. As to that fate, Corsini's words had left her in no doubt. In a few hours the arch-plotter and a.s.sa.s.sin would be on his way to Siberia. The House of Zouroff, so far as its t.i.tular head was concerned, would have ceased to exist.

But she was very happy in her knowledge of her love for Corsini, of Corsini's love for her. The name of Zouroff might be a tainted one, but the Italian stood high in the estimation of the Emperor and his powerful Secretary. Princess as she was, she would not stoop so greatly in becoming the wife of this favourite of fortune.

Zouroff spent the greater part of his day in calling at the houses of his various adherents. The knowledge that Golitzine was now acquainted with the dastardly part he had played against his innocent sister, spurred him to extra effort. Optimist as he was, he had an uneasy conviction that he was playing a desperate game. Could he strike before Golitzine would strike? That was the question, and it was one which would be determined in the coa.r.s.e of a few hours.

He brought all the resources of his mind to bear upon this important problem. He employed all his eloquence, he exercised all the influence of his strong personality. He heartened the wavering amongst his fellow-conspirators, he urged to more determined resolution those who were staunch and confident.

But he felt it was touch and go. He kept away from the Palace all that day, sending round a note to Peter to bring his evening clothes to a secret meeting-place. At any moment, Golitzine might determine to strike, and he might find Beilski's emissaries waiting for him at his ancestral home.

He was so terribly in the dark as to what Stepan had revealed or been forced to reveal. Of course, he did not learn till much later that it was not Stepan who had driven away on the box, but his hated rival, Corsini.

And why had Stepan feigned this sudden fit of insanity, a man who had always appeared so devoted to his person and his fortunes? Stepan, with his incurable deafness, could have learned nothing at these secret conclaves, he would have no information to sell that was worth any price. And yet he had driven straight to Golitzine's house. What could have been his motive? There was something here he could not fathom.

Wandering in this maze of tangled speculation, Zouroff believed he had hit upon the right solution of these, apparently, inexplicable proceedings.

Stepan was devotedly attached to all the members of his house--himself, his sister, and his mother. When he had seen the two drugged and helpless women carried out of the Palace, he had recognised the young Princess and her maid as they were put into the waiting carriage.

In his slow, feeble brain he had realised that some danger was menacing them. His loyalty to his master had experienced a sudden revulsion. Some chivalrous instinct in him had urged him to espouse the cause of the weak and defenceless. A sudden inspiration had come to him by which he could secure his object. Before they could stop him, he had sprung on the box and whipped up his horses, with a view of placing the two women under safe protection. This seemed a reasonable explanation of that sudden and unexpected action. But there was always the disturbing thought--how would Golitzine, having once got Stepan into his clutches, deal with him? He would force him to write some account of the events of that night, even if he could not make him speak.

And then a comforting thought came to the Prince. It was possible that Stepan had been loyal to both, to his master and the young Princess.

He had halted the carriage at the Secretary's door, rung the bell, and run away before the door was opened, leaving the astute Count to unravel for himself the mystery of the two drugged women, one of whom he would recognise at once.

Still there was not much comfort in that thought, after all. Even if Stepan had not betrayed him, was there any reasonable hope that Nada and Katerina would keep silence for a moment, after they had been brought back to consciousness?

No, it was touch and go. He must strike swiftly, before Golitzine could get in his blow. And the puzzling thing was, why had Golitzine not already struck?

CHAPTER XXV

Five men were seated in the private cabinet of the Czar--the Emperor himself, his diligent and faithful Secretary, Golitzine, General Beilski, the Head of the Police, General Burovkin, a man with a heavy mustache and cast-iron countenance, one of the great military chiefs of Russia, devoted like the others to the services of the autocrat, and Nello Corsini.

Golitzine explained in his smooth, pa.s.sionless accents. He was a man who was never excited, never perturbed. Except that he was of lean build, he might have suggested the idea of a relentless spider, moving amongst a web of his own weaving to catch the unsuspecting flies.

He had been the first to speak. "Our very capable young friend, Corsini, has done great work. He was hidden at the Villa Quero last night and gathered information of the greatest importance."

The Emperor, who always liked to tell his subordinates that he knew all that was going on, interrupted his faithful and more astute Secretary.

"Ah, poor Madame Quero! I hear that she died in the early hours of the morning and that there are certain suspicious circ.u.mstances connected with her death--an idea that she has been poisoned, eh?"

Golitzine nodded. "Your Majesty has been correctly informed." He might have added that he had given this information himself, but he was too experienced a courtier to venture on such an experiment. Autocratic monarchs like to think they discover things for themselves. And perhaps the autocrat had not been quite awake when he received Golitzine's letter long before breakfast.

Golitzine waved his hand towards Corsini. He possessed a very generous nature, and he was quite ready to give honour where it was due.

"This is the man to whom we are indebted for the information which shall be fully detailed to your Majesty. Salmoros never did us a better service than when he sent Signor Corsini to us."

The Emperor inclined his head in his most gracious manner. "Salmoros never makes a mistake, and Corsini has more than justified his selection."

Golitzine leaned towards the young Italian. "Tell his Imperial Majesty all that you told me last night, the full details of what happened at the Villa Quero. I have given him a brief _resume_, but you can make it more convincing than I can. Speak out, Corsini; omit nothing; you need not fear to trespa.s.s on his Majesty's attention."

The Emperor inclined his head. He always blindly followed the lead of his Secretary. He knew that he could trust him, above all; also some half a dozen others, the two Generals amongst them.

Corsini, feeling very nervous, although by now he was becoming accustomed to his new environment, began his recital, giving full details of the strange things that had happened in the course of a few hours. Of course, he was intending to keep strict silence as to that little love scene between himself and the beautiful Nada. One must keep back certain things even from an autocrat of Alexander's type.

Being very nervous in the presence of the Emperor and these high officials of the Russian Empire, he told his story very haltingly.

Several times Golitzine helped him through when he faltered.

And then, when he was not a quarter through his narrative, there came a hesitating knock at the door. It was that of a timid _aide-de-camp_, who had taken upon himself to disturb his Emperor's privacy.

At the first sound of that timid knock, the Emperor frowned. His orders had been precise: he was not to be disturbed, except on a matter of greatest urgency. Perhaps this was one.

"Come in," cried the autocrat, in a far from conciliatory voice.

The young man, dressed in immaculate uniform, advanced, bowing very low. He tendered a letter.

"A thousand pardons for disturbing your Majesty after your particular instructions. The Baron Salmoros, whom I know well, has just arrived.

I told him you were engaged in important discussions with the biggest personages in the Empire. He persisted that I should bring his note to you. I disobeyed your instructions, but, under the circ.u.mstances, I trust you will think that I have not done wrong, that I have exercised my discretion wisely. The Baron said it was urgent, that, whoever you were engaged with, you must be disturbed. I know how highly the Baron stands in your Majesty's favour."

Alexander opened the letter with a frowning brow. True autocrat, he was incensed that his slightest instructions should have been disobeyed. But, as he read the letter of the Baron, his brow cleared.

He turned a mild look upon the disturbed young officer. "You have acted very wisely indeed. I shall hold you in my remembrance. Bring the Baron to us at once."

He turned to the four other men. "Gentlemen, our good friend, Salmoros, has taken a journey to us because he has certain information to impart. I recognise very gratefully that I am well served, but I think we may well admit the Baron's brains to our important conclave."

He looked towards Golitzine as he spoke.

The adroit Secretary inclined his head. "I think your Majesty can well admit the Baron to our counsels. We can always learn something from him."

A few moments later the venerable figure of Salmoros appeared in the doorway of the private cabinet of the Emperor, ushered in by the no longer fearful young officer.

He advanced and kissed the Emperor's hand. Alexander, as a mark of his esteem for the great financier, had risen to greet him. The Baron shook hands with Golitzine and the two Generals. Then he laid his hand lightly on Corsini's shoulder.

"Ah, my young friend and protege, I see you have done well. If you had failed, you would not be in the private cabinet of the Emperor to-day."

The autocrat interposed. "My dear Baron, your young friend has been of the most inestimable service to us. You were always a great judge of men."

The next to speak was Golitzine. "My dear Salmoros, I know full well that it is your zeal for the Emperor and the great Empire over which he rules that has led you to take this long and tedious journey. You have something of importance to communicate."