British Mysteries Omnibus - The Emma Orczy Edition (65+ Titles in One Edition). Emma Orczy
said.
"And that very day, Mirkovitch, you will be relieved of your charge."
"I think," he said obstinately, "that all tyrants and their brood are best out of the world altogether. And in the meanwhile," he added, with his usual grimness, "we are to hope, I suppose, that Volenski and our papers are safe."
But they refused to allow their enthusiasm to be damped. Hope reigned supreme in the committee-room in the Franzgasse to-night. The papers could not be in wrong hands, for the Tsarevitch was still a prisoner in the Heumarkt, and they themselves were still free; and if their papers were safe they had, they believed, every reason to hope that their messenger was likewise.
The meeting was prolonged far into the night. Happy conjectures now took the place of the gloomy ones, and Maria Stefanowna was the heroine of the hour. As soon as she felt quite convinced that her plan had been approved of, and that there was no more danger of her father reimposing his dark views upon them, she left them, followed by their cheers and blessings, to pray quietly in her own room that the rest of her plan might turn out as successfully as the beginning.
Far away in a foreign though hospitable land, in a hotel and surrounded by strangers, this same comrade of theirs was hovering between life and death in the throes of an acute brain fever. The strain had been too great; the aching brain refused to bear any further burden. And the compromising papers–the fated candlesticks; where were they now? In whose hands would they fall? Would, after all this plucky fighting, the victory remain in other hands, and if so, would God grant that they were not the hands of deadliest enemies?
Chapter XVIII
It was about a week later, that Nicholas Alexandrovitch, wearied by long captivity, was surprised late one evening to find on his supper-table a neatly folded silk handkerchief, together with a letter addressed to himself. Any news to a prisoner is always good news. He tore the envelope open with eager alacrity, and read with amazement the following brief communication:
"If Nicholas Alexandrovitch will securely tie round his face the accompanying handkerchief, and allow, without resistance, some persons to lead him out of his present abode into a fiaker, he will find himself restored to complete liberty. The persons entrusted to accompany Nicholas Alexandrovitch will wait upon him one hour after midnight."
It would have been more than folly to allow foolish pride to stand in the way of possible escape. The thought that this might be some dangerous trap flashed through his mind, only to be instantly dismissed; had his gaolers wished to do him further bodily harm, or to remove him to some other place of safety, they had every power to do so without the preliminary farce of apprising him of their intentions, or of requesting him to blindfold his own eyes.
One hour after midnight he was ready, the handkerchief tied round his face. He heard the door open and the sound of several footsteps; then he felt his hands taken hold of by some powerful grip, and was led through the room and down the stone stairs he had climbed a fortnight ago with such buoyancy of spirit. Evidently he was under heavy escort, for it seemed to him that someone was walking in front of him and someone behind, whilst on each side a third and fourth guardian held each of his wrists in a relentless grip.
He was helped into a fiaker, still blindfold and his wrists still tightly held, and after about a quarter of an hour's drive the vehicle stopped, the doors were opened, and Nicholas Alexandrovitch was helped to alight. It seemed to him that the hold on his wrists slackened, then was released altogether; the next moment he heard the doors of the fiaker slammed to, and the vehicle start off at a breathless gallop. He realised that he was free, and alone, and rapidly tore the handkerchief away from his face. He looked round him bewildered. The street in which he was, was long and deserted–a row of houses, all built on the same pattern, not very brilliantly lighted, not a soul in sight, but in the far distance the now fast disappearing fiaker a mere speck, which also was soon lost to view.
As if in a dream, and now knowing where he was, the Tsarevitch walked on for a little while at random, hoping to emerge soon on some more busy thoroughfare. Presently he met one or two passers-by, from whom he asked directions as to the best means of finding a vehicle at this hour of the morning, he being a stranager in the city and having lost his way.
The information was given him, and five minutes later Nicholas Alexandrovitch found himself once more in a fiaker, this time being driven rapidly in the direction of the Hotel Impérial.
In the vestibule his faithful Russian valet awaited him, whose joy at seeing his young master safe and well seemed unbounded. Behind him stood two or three official-looking personages, who saluted respectfully as the Tsarevitch alighted. Lavrovski was not there, but an elderly man with a decoration in his buttonhole advanced, as Nicholas beckoned to him to follow him to his rooms.
"No doubt, monsieur," said the Tsarevitch, "you are here for the purpose of giving me an explanation, how some miscreants succeeded in keeping the heir to the Russian throne under lock and key for fourteen days, before your minions managed to discover my whereabouts and forced them to let me go free?"
"Your Imperial Highness," replied the old official, "is justly wrathful at what must seem to you our unpardonable negligence, but –– "
"You must have known I had mysteriously disappeared the night of the opera ball."
"Count Lavrovski only thought fit to inform His Majesty that your Imperial Highness was confined to your room with a slight indisposition."
"And –– ?"
"And it was not till four days ago that he arrived at Petersburg bearing the terrible news."
"You were told, of course, at once to set all your staff at work?"
"I was given no orders, your Imperial Highness; and no one, not even I, knows what passed between His Majesty and Count Lavrovski; nor was I officially informed of your Imperial Highness' terrible predicament. The day before yesterday I was ordered to take two of my chief officers with me, and with Stepán, your Imperial Highness' valet, to proceed at once to Vienna, and stay at this hotel under some assumed names, always ready to receive your Imperial Highness whenever you arrived."
"This all seems very mysterious; I cannot understand it. Are you, then, not to attempt to trace the daring abductors of my person?"
"We are only, it seems, to thank Heaven that your Imperial Highness has been once more providentially restored to us. That is all the information I have–officially."
"And privately?"
"Oh! mere conjectures."
"I must hear them."
"I will give them to your Imperial Highness for what they are worth. But it is not often that my long experience as chief of his Majesty's police leads my instinct on a wrong track. Before I started for Vienna, I had in my hand his Majesty's letter, granting a free pardon to the gang of Nihilists, headed by one named Dunajewski, who were waiting condemnation for their last attempt against the very life of our august monarch. The letter was accompanied with a free pass for all of them across the frontier, signed by his Majesty's own hand, and to which I was ordered to affix the official seal."
"And these Nihilists?"
"Were set free that very evening, and under safe escort crossed the frontier in the early hours of last night, when they were handed their passports, and left to go whither they chose."
"Even now I do not quite understand."
"An official telegram was sent from Russia announcing this unparalleled liberation of Nihilist convicts to every Viennese paper, who have published the news this morning."
And the Russian chief of police took from his pocket a copy of theFremdenblatt and one or two other papers, and handed them over to the Tsarevitch.
"Then you think that I was taken as hostage?"
The Russian nodded.