"Never mind conclusions and surmises, my friend; it is facts we want to get hold of," said Madame Demidoff reflectively. "No doubt Lavrovski did not dare to fully confide in this Furet, and the detective, thereupon, would refuse to spend his time on a wild-goose-chase. What happened after that?"
"There is very little more to tell, Excellency. Count Lavrovski went straight back to the hotel, from whence he has not stirred all day. Stepán, the Russian valet, however, went out about five o'clock. I noticed he carried a piece of paper in his hand. I followed him to a telegraph office, and was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the contents, as he handed it across the counter."
"And?"
"It contained only a few words: 'Nicholas confined to his bed; doctors say German measles; not the last serious; will be up in less than a week.–Lavrovski.'"
Madame Demidoff sat still awhile now, reflecting on what she had heard, her brows knit, buried in thought. "To whom was the telegram addressed?" was the last question she asked.
"I could not see, Excellency," answered the man. "I could only get one glance at it, and have told you the words that struck me."
She had taken up a sheet of paper, and was making rapid notes of what she had heard. Little enough it seemed as she read them over, and she was tapping her foot with impatience and impotent energy.
"It seems pretty clear that Lavrovski has made up his mind to wait," she said, "and is trying as best he can to keep ignorant at headquarters of the Tsarevitch's disappearance. This is, no doubt, Furet's advice to him, who wants probably to have all the credit of discovering Nicholas' whereabouts, and the liberal reward that is sure in that case to be his.
"I care nothing for the reward, but this mystery alarms me. Lavrovski! Bah! an incompetent personage at best, now a coward, who thinks more of his own safety than of hte dangers that at this moment surround the Tsarevitch in his unknown prison. Pray to God," she added fervently, "that it remain a prison, and not become a grave."
"Amen!" said Eugen.
"Now, Eugen, that is, I think, all that you have to tell me. Your work, after I have left, will not be very difficult. Follow this man Furet wherever he goes, glean every scrap of information you can; remember, if anyone discovers the Tsarevitch it must be I and you, not they. You understand?"
A rumble of carriage wheels was now distinctly audible under the portico. Madame Demidoff hastily finished what writing she had to do, then locked her desk, and dismissed Eugen, who disappeared, silent and stolid as he had come.
Then it was that the consummate histrionic art, which this fascinating woman had at her fingers' ends, ,showed itself in a way that, to a hidden observer, would have seemed almost weird; in the space of less than a minute, she seemed to have thrown off every vestige of anxiety and agitation. Her face was calm and smiling; the words of welcome to her exalted guest seemed ready to bubble forth; the hand that was cordially stretched forward was neither cold nor trembling.
The lackey had thrown open the door and announced:
"his Eminence the Cardinal Archbishop of Beauvaix, Papal Nuncio."
"Your Eminence does my poor house too much honour," she said, with a gracious smile, while the Cardinal, with the gallantry peculiar to his calling, kissed the tips of the dainty fingers that had been placed between his own.
No wonder her countrymen were afraid of her; no wonder it was a slight shiver she occasioned at times, in those who guessed what lay hidden behind the impassive mask of the Russian grande dame, the friend of princes, of kings and cardinals; perhaps it was the terror of the unknown, a vague fear caused by this beautiful, impenetrable, and certainly dangerous sphinx.
As for his Eminence, not being a Russian he had no cause to fear Madame Demidoff, but every reason to admire her, and sharpen his diplomatic wit against hers; as for shivers, they certainly were not cold ones she gave him down the back. He saw in her a most brilliant and agreeable conversationalist, who knew everybody that was worth knowing, had been everywhere that was worth visiting; her taste in matters artistic was unerring, her knowledge of interesting objets d'art the most complete on record. She had once written a most interesting pamphlet on the thimibles of Catherine II, another on the spurs of Peter the Great; she professed an ardent enthusiasm for the Roman Catholic Church, and showed an equally genuine one for its high dignitaries. Failing a trip to the Bohemia, his Eminence thought the recherché little dinners, en tête-à-tête with Madame Demidoff, the most consoling, most exhilarating holiday for his much harassed mind.
"And your Eminence is really leaving us to-morrow?" said the fair Russian with a sigh, when, having adjourned to her dainty boudoir after dinner, she sat lazily reclining in an armchair, a gold-tipped cigarette between her fingers, and a pair of arch black eyes fixed coquettishly on the reserved, impassive face of her vis-à-vis.
"It is unkind to speak of it at this early hour, madame, and embitter the last pleasing moments I shall spend in this delightful capital," replied the Cardinal.
"Come, come," she added coquettishly, "I did not know that diplomacy completely precluded truthfulness, even at the shrine of gallantry. If rumour speak correctly, your Eminence is only leaving us for newer, and therefore more enjoyable, scenes."
"Alas! chère madame, rumour, which spoke truly at morn, now talks falsely at even. I certainly had intended to go to Carlsbad for a fortnight's relaxation among the beautiful mountains –– "
"Incognito?" she asked mischievously.
"Incognito," he smiled in reply. "But, alas! unforeseen duties have since called me elsewhere."
"Why, that is very sudden," she said; "M. Volenski, whom I met last night, told me that your Eminence had completed your work, and were going on leave of absence for three weeks at least."
"Iván Volenski told you what was quite correct last night, but alas! has ceased to be so to-day," sighed his Eminence, with angry impatience.
"And your Eminence is going –– ?" she asked, with truly feminine curiosity.
He looked at her and smiled; she was bewitchingly pretty, smoking her cigarette with that infinite grace so peculiar to Russian women.
"Elsewhere," he said at last, as if in a vain attempt to check any further questions.
But experienced diplomatist as, no doubt, the Papal Nuncio was, this was a false move, for the word, as used by him, obviously hid a mystery. Madame Demidoff bit her lip; she disliked secrets, until they became her own. his Eminence had, quite unwittingly, aroused her curiosity, and she had decided in her mind, in the space of a few seconds, that the Cardinal should not leave her house to-night before having told her where he was going the next day.
"Elsewhere is a vague word," she said poutingly, "not to say ungallant. Your Eminence has not accustomed me to such brusque answers."
Her annoyance, real or assumed, upset the inflammable cleric even more than her archness.
"Believe me, chère madame," he said, full of contrition, "that were the secret mine I would confide it you immediately, and not attempt to fence with words with you, which proceeding, I own, seems shockingly ungallant."
"Ah! then you admit that there is a secret connected with your change of plans?"
"Nay! I never denied that, but the secret is not my own."
"Would it be the first time, then, that your Eminence will have entrusted me with a secret which was not wholly yours?" she asked.
Evidently the shaft told truly, for the Cardinal did not reply. She saw she had gained a point. She was now burning with curiosity, and, womanlike, was more determined than ever to pierce his Eminence's last attempts at mystery.
"I