British Mysteries Omnibus - The Emma Orczy Edition (65+ Titles in One Edition). Emma Orczy
the matter, not to allow his eagerness to run away with his reason. His comrades' safety was the important fact to bear in mind, and that he would undoubtedly be furthering by concealing the papers in the secret receptacle.
He was excited, enthusiastic!
"God's hand," he thought, "protects the cause. He placed this secret within my reach. And now, in two days, Taranïew can have the papers. his Eminence will have charge of them. The Papal Nuncio himself will unwittingly convey them across the frontier."
his Eminence could not be "a suspect," that was clear; if he declared a parcel to contain works of art belonging to himself, not the chief of the Third Section in person would dare to lay hands on the Cardinal's property.
And feverishly he touched the secret spring of one of the candlesticks, and gazed, almost lovingly, into the velvet-lined receptacle within. Once more assuring himself that his door was safely locked, he took, from out of his breast-pocket, the papers entrusted to him yesterday by the committee, slipped them inside the hollow of the tree-trunk, and carefully closed the spring again. He then minutely examined the two candlesticks, and ascertained that the china Cupid, who was now guarding the papers, had a slightly damaged arm, from wrist to elbow, which made it easily recognisable from its twin. He then wrapped them up carefully in many layers of cotton wool, and multitudinous soft papers, and, taking the precious parcel to the Cardinal's room, he locked it up in his Eminence's valise, side by side with the episcopal ring and other insignia of his sacred calling.
"Yes, your Eminence, you shall take our papers to St. Petersburg for us, hidden in the gift of an Emperor to a Princess; they will be safe enough there, I think."
Five minute later Iván, calm once more, sought out the Cardinal in his study; he handed him over the key to his valise, and gave him the assurance that the Emperor's candlesticks were quite safely packed, without fear of the slightest damage.
"I am infinitely grateful to you, my son," said his Eminence; "and now, as I am myself dining out, I think I may safely give you this, your last evening in Vienna, to dispose of, and say good-bye to any friends you may wish to see. You will have to leave instructions about our intended departure by the morning's express, and be ready yourself for the journey. Good night, Iván, and thank you."
Volenski retired with a low bow, glad to think that he was off duty for the rest of the day. He hoped that some time during the evening he would meet one or the other of his comrades, and be able to tell him to communicate with the others that, owing to the most propitious circumstances, he would start for Petersburg twenty-four hours sooner than was anticipated. They might, therefore, rest fully assured that the papers would be safe in Taranïew's hands by the Saturday morning at latest, more especially as he would now be travelling actually with his Eminence the Nuncio, and that, therefore, there was not the slightest fear of his being asked unpleasant questions, or having his papers examined. Those, belonging to the brotherhood, he had placed in a hiding-place that was unparalleled for safety and defied the eyes of the keenest-sighted Russian official in the Empire.
Chapter VII
That same night his Eminence, as he had told Iván, was not dining at his hotel: he was spending an evening–the last of a series–in the company of Madame Demidoff, the most charming, the most mysterious, the most dangerous, of those Russian grandes dames who haunt the societies of Vienna, Paris, and London, live on apparently boundless means, are received everywhere, admired by the men, envied by the women, and feared by the staff and even the head of the respective Russian embassies.
Why the beautiful Madame Demidoff should be feared by her own compatriots it were difficult for an Englishman or a Frenchman to say; she was always affable, equally so to everyone whom she meet in society, and appeared not to take the slightest interest in matters political; true, there had been a rumour a year ago that at the Austrian frontier one day an over-zealous custom-house official, in inspecting the luggage of Madame Demidoff, who was going across to Russia, is said to have found some papers, wherein the lady gave a curiously minute account of all the sayings and doings of the Tsar's subjects residing in Vienna, including one or two intimate conversations between "Monsieur l'ambassadeur" and Madame his wife, that had actually taken place in their own bedroom; but this never got beyond a rumour, and the fact that "Monsieur l'ambassadeur" was shortly afterwards asked to retire from the diplomatic service may have had nothing to do with that intimate conversation which, after all, he had had with his wife between four walls and one or two doors. Anyhow, his Excellency, the present ambassador, and all his staff, also "Madame l'ambassadrice," are always particularly amiable with Madame Demidoff, and ask her to all their most select parties–but, the moment she leaves they sigh a sigh of relief, and when her name is mentioned before his Excellency he invariably says, "Do not name her to me; it gives me a cold shiver down the back."
However, all this was rumour pure and simple; nothing definite had ever been said that might throw suspicion of an ignoble calling on so fair an addition to Viennese smart society, and all uncharitable whispers were invariably suppressed by Madame Demidoff's numerous friends and admirers. Moreover, she entertained so superbly–her little dinners were worthy of an ode by the court poet, and her balls were counted among the great functions of the season.
One of these charming little dinners she proposed giving to-night to one of her most ardent, most valued friends, his Eminence Cardinal d'Orsay, who never shamed his high ecclesiastical office by avoiding any pretty woman that was willing to help him to while away the tediousness of diplomatic negotiations.
But she meant to leave for Petersburg that very evening by the midnight express, for it seemed to her beyond a doubt that some mystery was connected with the Tsarevitch's chase after the odalisque at the opera ball last night; and this mystery, unless more power were placed in her hands, she knew herself incapable of solving.
She had seen nothing of Eugen during the day, and the evening was drawing on rapidly; she had but little hope of learning any very important facts from him. The plot–if plot there were–once successfully carried through, proved how well all plans must have been laid; time and place were in its favour, and the information gleaned by inquiries outside the opera house, where the crowd at the time of the abduction numbered hundreds of thousands, was sure to be of very meagre character.
But at present she was actually ignorant as to whether the Tsarevitch had, after all, returned to the hotel and the whole mystery burst as a soap bubble. Then Lavrovski's attitude would be interesting and important to note.
There was a discreet rap at the door of the boudoir, where she had been waiting for the last half-hour, nervously pacing up and down the room, and at times sitting at her desk and covering sheets of paper with rapid scribbling.
"Ah! it is you, Eugen," she said, as, in answer to her impatient "Come in," themoujik's stolid figure appeared at the door. "Well! have you learnt anything? Tell me as briefly as you can all the important points while I make notes; you must be quick, for I can only spare a few minutes."
"According to your Excellency's instructions," began the Russian, "I went at once to the opera house, where the last of the masks were then departing, and the lights were being put out; I had conversations with most of the attendants and some of the commissionaires who had been stationed there, but no one seems to have taken much notice of the odalisque, the black domino, or the fiaker. They all, however, recollect an elderly gentleman, also in a black domino, making similar inquiries to mine, who seemed very agitated and disappointed when he could learn nothing."
"Lavrovski, of course! Well?"
"At the hotel this morning, I gathered that the Tsarevitch has up to this moment not reappeared, for Count Lavrovski, whom I followed at about two o'clock this afternoon, went off to the business house of a certain M. Furet, who, as I learnt from his concierge, is a very well-known and much-thought-of detective in this city."
"H'm! I wonder what his hopes were in that quarter!" mused Madame Demidoff. "You are sure he did not send a telegram across to Petersburg first?"