The great financier always travelled in royal state on important occasions. He lodged himself in the same fashion. At the present moment he was occupying one of the most expensive suites in the hotel.

Two secretaries and a valet formed his retinue. He had journeyed all the way by special trains.

Well, in a way he was a monarch himself--one of the half-dozen undisputed kings of finance, who are the power behind t.i.tular potentates and taken into their counsels before they resolve upon decided action.

There was no other guest. Salmoros wished to talk to this young man alone. Nothing appealed to the Baron like success. He was prepared to admit that luck was a frequent element in success, and Corsini had undoubtedly been lucky. A chance meeting with a discredited outlaw--so much he had gathered from Golitzine in a brief conversation to-day--had put the young Italian on the right track. All the same, luck had a knack of presenting itself to people born to achieve greatness. It presented itself to everybody, but the stupid people were too blind to see and take advantage of it.

He remembered a word of warning that his old friend and patron, that far-seeing statesman Lord Beaconsfield, had once addressed to him.

"Never a.s.sociate yourself with unlucky people, my dear Salmoros." He had faithfully regarded that warning during his strenuous years of commercial and business intrigue.

The Baron had jestingly said yesterday that they would meet to-night if that devil of a Zouroff left anybody alive. Well, they were all alive, and the traitor Prince would soon be eating his heart out in Siberia. And yet it had been touch and go. It had been a thrilling day, and an ordinary man might have felt his nerves a little shaken when the strain was over.

But Salmoros was as calm as if the destinies of the Russian Empire, in which he took so keen an interest, had never hung for a moment in the balance. Perhaps he had experienced and survived too many catastrophes to feel very great emotion at another triumph, the last of a hundred or more.

Corsini, on his side, with the jangling nerves of youth, was very palpably agitated. His smile was forced, his face was twitching.

He could not dismiss from his mind these great events that had so suddenly crowded into his life.

Nada, that peerless divinity whom he had adored from afar when there seemed no hope, who had suddenly descended, as it were, to earth and had promised to be his wife! Here was one intoxicating thought.

And then, last night the Emperor had called him into his private cabinet, invested him with the t.i.tle of Count of the Russian Empire and promised him an even more substantial reward.

And yet he was the same man who, a short time ago, had been playing in the streets for coppers which his half-starved sister collected. But for the providential interference of dear old Papa Peron he might have been playing there still, or sought refuge in an untimely grave.

Simply a turn of fortune's wheel.

Salmoros noted his agitation, and for a long time, did not press him with any very direct conversation. He talked of music, of which he was a great connoisseur, and presently he found that this subject drew the young man out of his perturbed thoughts.

By the time the meal was finished, Corsini was almost his normal self.

The animated discussions over different composers, in which each disputant defended his opinions warmly, had driven for a time into the background the personal events of the last few days.

"We shall never agree about Russia," remarked the Baron at the end of this artistic conference. "Now, we have had quite a long argument and the subject is very absorbing to both of us. Let us talk of something a little nearer home. The Signor Corsini I sent out to Russia in the nature of a speculation is now Count Corsini, a member of the n.o.bility of the Russian Empire. Have you reflected over these facts and to what extent they are going to influence your future?"

Nello answered candidly. "For the last few days, Baron, I seem to have been living in a world of dreams. I never sought adventure, but through you--no, I must not forget dear old Papa Peron, he was the origin of all this--adventure has come to me."

At the mention of Peron's name, Salmoros lifted his gla.s.s and spoke in a voice of emotion.

"To the memory of my dear old friend and comrade, who had a heart of gold. Ah, why did he choose to die in that miserable garret, when he knew I was so near? What misplaced pride!"

"He had the artistic temperament, Baron, but he was never a man of the world. He would give, but he blushed to take," was Nello's answer.

"Well, you have asked me for my ideas as to the future. Candidly, I have not yet formulated any, except as regards in one direction. For one thing I would prefer not to remain in Russia."

The Baron smiled his quiet and comprehending smile. "There I think I am with you. A charming place for a brief visit, but for a prolonged residence, certainly not."

Corsini went on. "I love England and its free ways. Here there is too much intrigue. I propose, when certain things are settled, to return to England. The Emperor has kindly said that if I wish it the directorship of the Imperial Opera is mine for life. It is a fine post and I fully appreciate the compliment. But----"

Salmoros interrupted him. "I quite understand. You would sooner play your violin at the Floral Hall in London than conduct the Imperial Opera in this city of St. Petersburg, honeycombed with spies, traitors, and actual or potential a.s.sa.s.sins?"

Nello nodded. It was very easy to explain to this wonderful old man, who seemed to know what you were going to say before the words were formed.

"Now confide in me," said the Baron in his most confidential tones.

"You dropped a rather significant phrase just now. You said you had not yet formulated your ideas, except in one particular direction.

Will you tell me, or can I guess it?"

The young man blushed vividly. "I have been fortunate far beyond my deserts, sir. The Princess Nada Zouroff, whom I first met in London at the Russian Emba.s.sy, has been kind enough----"

"Don't be so formal, Nello," said the Baron kindly, using his Christian name to put him at his ease. "You need not tell me any more.

I had a long talk with Golitzine this afternoon. Of course he told me many things and amongst them was this item of news, that Nada is going to marry you."

This wonderful old Salmoros knew everything, but how could he help it, when so many channels of information were open to him? Corsini's answer was a still deeper blush.

"She will make you a good wife. Golitzine knows them well; he speaks in the highest terms of her and her mother. The father was a bully and a ruffian, the brother we know was a traitor, and will get his deserts."

He raised his gla.s.s, bowing to the young man with an old-world courtesy.

"To the health of your _fiancee_, the future Countess Corsini. When do you propose to marry?"

"I cannot fix the exact date, Baron. Her mother, you may have heard, is very ill. Nada has only returned to the Palace to-day. It would not have been safe for her to do so while that scoundrel Boris was at large."

Salmoros mused for a few moments before he spoke again. "So you will marry as soon as all the circ.u.mstances will permit. And I take it you will reside in England. What does the young Princess say to that?"

"Nada loves England," was Corsini's answer, "and after the events of last night Russia will not have very pleasant recollections for her or her mother."

"True," agreed the Baron. "I shall very much like you to spend part of your honeymoon with me at my place in Suss.e.x, if it falls in with your arrangements."

"I am sure we shall be delighted, sir," cried Nello. He paused and added a little nervously: "But I hope you won't want to send me on any more missions of this sort. If so, you must let me know the nature of the danger beforehand."

Salmoros laughed good-humouredly. "No, my young friend, I will not play that sort of trick upon you a second time. Besides, being a Count and the husband of a very charming Princess, I doubt if I should find you so useful for my purposes. I will do my utmost to advance your artistic interests in England, instead. But remember, it is a promise; you will bring your wife to my house in Suss.e.x, if not upon your honeymoon, at some time convenient to yourselves."

Nello a.s.sured the benevolent old Baron that they would certainly accept his hospitality, and bade him good-night.

Outside he saw the four stalwart figures of his bodyguard waiting for him. Beilski had not relaxed his precautions. It was still possible that some fanatical and devoted adherent of Zouroff might resolve to avenge his defeated chief.

A burly, bearded man was walking up and down outside the door of the hotel. Corsini recognised him immediately--"Ivan the Cuckoo."

The four men drew nearer, as they perceived the late outlaw was accosting him, but Corsini raised his hand and waved them back.

"I waited for you, Signor, to express my thanks to you who have so n.o.bly fulfilled your part of the bargain," said Ivan, speaking in low tones. "I was at the Count's house an hour ago; he has promised me a most substantial sum, part of which will go to my good old comrade, Stepan. After all, Signor, if we must be truthful, it was he who really saved the Emperor."

"I quite agree," answered Corsini. Yes, Stepan had expressed his suspicions to Ivan, and Ivan's quick wit had developed the plan of campaign, which the Italian had skilfully conducted. The honours seemed a little unequally distributed. Corsini was a Count, with a handsome sum of money. Ivan was to have also a substantial pecuniary reward, and Stepan was to have some share of what Ivan received.

Still, it was no use pondering over these caprices of fortune.

"Signor," went on the late outlaw, "I am sick of Russia. As soon as I get my money, and the Count promises it immediately, I shall leave this country. I am tired of it. I shall go to England--I hear it is a land of the free--set up a business there, and turn myself into an honest man."

Corsini shook him by the hand. "Bravo, Ivan. Yes, by all means go to England. It is, as you say, a land of the free. I shall go back there as soon as I can. I am not over-fond of Russia."

Ivan's eyes sparkled. "Perhaps, Signor, we might meet there some day, if it would not be presumption on my part to intrude on you."

"Nonsense, my good Ivan. I shall always be pleased to see you in memory of those few moments we spent before the village ikon. Here is an address to which you can always write me."

He felt very grateful to Ivan. If it had not been for the good services of the "Cuckoo," he would never have been a Count of the Russian Empire. He handed him an envelope on which he scribbled his full t.i.tle and description, addressed to the care of the Baron Salmoros. Any letter directed to that quarter would be sure to reach him, and he knew the Baron would be certain to pardon him for taking the liberty.