British Mysteries Omnibus - The Emma Orczy Edition (65+ Titles in One Edition). Emma Orczy
around and with him, but no one seemed to think the theft of Madame Demidoff's valise of the slightest importance, and Volenski dared not bring the subject up himself; he feared lest his voice would tremble, his anxious eyes betray his agitation.
Hungrily he listened for news, for comments, and went from one café to another, but only once did he hear an illusion made to the robbery; one young fellow said to another that no doubt Madame Demidoff had already succeeded in putting the police on the track of the thieves: she was so expert in police matters herself. The other young man laughed, and the subject was dropped.
The hours passed slowly on; the enforced inactivity weighed heavily on Volenski's mind. The strain of weary waiting for some unknown catastrophe that might be close at hand was beginning to tell on him, and he left the busy streets of the city for some more remote, less frequented spots, where he might allow himself a little more freedom, his agitation a little more scope.
Thus his wanderings had led him towards the publishing offices of the Fremdenblatt, outside which a great amount of bustle and noise proclaimed the sending out of the first afternoon edition. Inwardly thanking the chance that had led his footsteps in this direction. Volenski purchased a copy of the paper and eagerly scanned its contents.
Ah! there it was! some news evidently!
"THE ROBBERY AT ODERBERG
"Our frontier police have once more displayed the wonderful insight and promptness of action for which they are justly noted. The actual thief who stole the dressing-bag and valise of Madame Demidoff at Oderberg yesterday morning was arrested in a private room of the 'Heinrich Marshall' public-house in that same town, where he had taken refuge with his accomplice, in order to divide the booty. As the police forced their way into the room the two thieves were apparently quarrelling loudly over some of the trinkets, which were scattered all over the place. The man, a notorious character, who has long been 'wanted' by the police, seemed in too high a passion, or else too scared, to attempt to flee, but his accomplice, who by the way is a woman, succeeded in gathering a few articles together and effecting an escape through the window. She was, however, recognised by one of the police, and no doubt by now is also under arrest.
"The police were greatly aided in their discovery by two or three of the porters at the station, who, it is said, were stimulated by the large sum of money offered by Madame Demidoff as a reward. Great, therefore, was the dissatisfaction and indignation amongst them when the lady, under the pretence that one or two valuable articles were missing, refused to give any reward till those articles were found. She appeared much agitated on giving her evidence before the magistrate, and explained this agitation on the grounds that one of the missing articles was a pair of very valuable antique gold and china candlesticks, which were not her property, but which were entrusted to her special care by a friend, whose name she refused to disclose. The lady's singular excitement throughout the hearing of the case is causing much comment."
The paper dropped from Volenski's hand, and he stood in the street staring into vacancy, almost staggering, as though he were intoxicated. The terrible thing about this whole drama that was being enacted around him was the fact that, though he was the person most concerned in its developments, it was absolutely futile, nay, dangerous, for him to take the slightest part in it; and not the least of his sufferings was this feeling of utter powerlessness to do aught that could tend to save his comrades and himself from the terrible, crushing blow that might at any moment annihilate them all. But the time for serious deliberation had now arrived; it became absolutely imperative–Iván felt this–that he should trace himself a line of conduct, adopt some plan, decide how far he would warn his comrades, and perhaps seek their help and advice. But for this, quiet was needed, and Volenski now retraced his steps towards his hotel, feeling, moreover, that he had no right to neglect his Eminence's business and correspondence, as, alas! he had but too long done. On his way home many a conflicting thought chased another, many a surmise, a problem, the solution of which might mean life or death to his friends and himself.
Having locked the door of his study, Iván set himself resolutely to the task of chasing away all thoughts of his worries, and devoting himself to his master's work. He wrote what letters were necessary, sorted those that would require to be forwarded to his Eminence, arranged the papers that related to work done, and it was not till late in the afternoon, when the valet brought him a light, that he allowed himself the leisure of once more reverting to the all-engrossing subject of the missing papers, and gave himself the time for thinking over his plans.
The strict adherence to his duties had done him good, both mentally and physically; his brain seemed more clear, his nerves less on the quiver, than during those hours he had spent wandering idly and restlessly in the streets.
Clearly, the situation at this moment was no worse than it had been in the morning, and there was, as yet, no occasion to alarm his fellow-conspirators by telling them the facts of the case, and turning their wrath upon himself, who already had so much to bear.
No, it was better they should remain in ignorance a little longer, for Iván had not abandoned the hope that the papers were still undiscovered, and that he could, after the terrible fright she had had, induce Madame Demidoff to give the candlesticks back to him as soon as she had recovered them from the police. The danger, the sole danger throughout, lay in the fact that papers so terribly compromising should be, if only for a short time, so hopelessly out of his reach, that so deadly a secret should lie at the mercy of so mere a chance.
As for his Eminence, Volenski well knew that, as soon as he was free from diplomatic duties, he never even glanced at a newspaper; his name, so far, had not been mentioned, and –– But here a fresh, a curious train of thought arose in Iván's mind, and the darker side of the picture–he had vainly tried to look upon as bright–presented itself before his mind. Why had the Cardinal's name been so studiously kept back by Madame Demidoff? Was it merely that, very naturally, she did not wish him to know how badly she had failed in her trust, or was there–and Iván paled at the thought–some reason for her wishing that his Eminence should not hear of her loss, some reason for the curious excitement into which, woman of the world as she was, she had betrayed herself, to the extent of arousing the comments of the magistrate and the reporters?
Had she, perchance, already discovered the dreaded secret, and, wishing to claim the honour and glory of her find, was she anxious to recover the papers, and, with them in her hands, denounce the conspirators and claim her reward? Was her agitation the outcome of her terror lest she should lose the precious proofs, without which, perhaps, her memory might be at fault in naming the perpetrators of the daring plot? Ay, all that was possible. Iván knew it all the time, strive though he might to lure himself into the false belief that all was sure to be quite safe so far. Madame Demidoff was evidently staying at Oderberg, ready to claim her property at once. Iván pondered if he should communicate with her; a sensible proceeding enough, if she had not discovered the papers, but worse than useless if she already had done so. One more chance now lay open to Iván, and that was to approach the police himself–now that the candlesticks had actually been mentioned as part of the missing property–and find out if they would allow him to claim them, on behalf of his Eminence the Papal Nuncio.
With that object in view, late as it was, he ordered a fiaker, and drove off to the headquarters of the Detective Department. The chief of the police, Baron de Hermansthal, he knew well, having frequently met him in society, while in attendance on Cardinal d'Orsay. The baron was a busy man, very busy, and he kept Volenski waiting three-quarters of an hour in his ante-room; Iván had plenty of leisure, therefore, to decide what line of diplomacy it were best to adopt.
He would tell Baron de Hermansthal, under an official seal of secrecy, that the candlesticks alluded to by Madame Demidoff, in her account of her missing property, were none other than those entrusted to her by his master, Cardinal d'Orsay; that these antique candlesticks were to be unofficially presented to a lady resident in Petersburg, by the Papal Nuncio, on behalf of an exalted personage whom Volenski would not name, but would leave Baron de Hermansthal to guess. Finally, he would add that his Eminence completely relied on Baron de Hermansthal's well-known tact and discretion, and that both the Cardinal and the exalted personage would desire that the matter be kept as far as possible from further publicity, the candlesticks