After having delivered her letter in the way recorded in a previous
chapter, Katerina had sped away with the swiftness of the proverbial
arrow. She was well on her way home before it reached the hands of
General Beilski, who was closeted with an official of high importance
and could not be disturbed till the interview was finished.
The Chief of Police was, above all things, a man of action. There was
nothing in the letter itself to give the least clue as to the writer,
but it was evidently genuine. He came to the conclusion that the woman
who had sent it was unwillingly mixed up in some plot against which
her conscience revolted.
He immediately called in one of his subordinates to make arrangements
for the immediate despatch of a body of mounted police to Pavlovsk,
where they would lie in wait for the arriving carriage.
The man who had taken the letter from the somewhat frightened maid
was called in and questioned, but his evidence was of no value. His
recollections of the appearance of the young woman were very hazy.
She was young, slim, and rather good-looking, but he had taken so
little notice of her that he admitted that he would not be sure of
recognising her if he met her again. There were other callers at the
time and his attention had been distracted.
The man was dismissed, and the General and his lieutenant closely
scrutinised the letter for the second time. All that they could do was
to agree upon two points. The handwriting was evidently a feigned one,
and also that of a person of education.
"There is one peculiar thing about it; our informant wishes to save
the person threatened," remarked the Chief; "but she evidently wishes
to involve as little as possible the perpetrators. Otherwise she would
have told us where the carriage was going to start from for Pavlovsk,
so as to save us the trouble of going all that way. Still, when we
stop the carriage, we shall be able to get something out of the
scoundrels who are in charge of it."
"Unless they are too staunch or too well paid to give away their
employer," observed the subordinate, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Many of these criminals, and none but criminals would engage in such
a job, are very loyal."
"In the good old days we would soon have made them find their
tongues," said the General with a grim smile.
That night Beilski dined alone with Golitzine and his wife. After
dinner was over, the two men adjourned to the Count's study and sat
late into the night, discussing various important matters.
When they were about to separate, the General drew from his pocket the
anonymous letter, and handed it to his host.
"Read that, Count, although I don't suppose you will be able to make
more out of it than I. It was left to-day by a mysterious young woman
who bolted as soon as she had given it into the hands of the porter.
He took very little notice of her and doubts if he would recognise her
again."
The Count read the letter slowly, and meditated for a few seconds.
"Strange, very strange," he said at length. "A person of some
importance in the artistic world!"
"Does that give you any clue?" inquired Beilski. "Of course you know a
good many things that I don't, and you also mix in more worlds than I
do. Is there anybody you can think of, or are acquainted with, whose
removal might be useful to some person or persons?"
It was some time before a sudden flash of inspiration came to
Golitzine. When it did, he spoke slowly.
"At present, mind, it is only a conjecture. But I can think of a man
who would answer to the description--Corsini, the Director of the
Imperial Opera."
The General elevated his eyebrows. "From all I have heard of him--I
have never met him--a most quiet, unassuming fellow. How could he give
offence to anybody?"
"I must let you into one of my secrets, Beilski. This young man is
acting for me in a certain matter. I have given him some information
which, according to my instructions, he has divulged to somebody else,
a woman."
"Is there any objection to telling me the name of the woman?"
"As I have gone so far, I may as well go a little bit farther," was
the Count's answer. "But, at the moment, you must remember it is only
a conjecture. The woman whom I suspect of having sent that note is La
Belle Quero."
"The woman who gives supper parties to men whom we strongly suspect,
but regarding whom we have, up to the present, no actual proof,"
commented Beilski.
"Precisely." The Count looked at his watch. "That carriage has started
with its freight some time ago. I think we can soon solve the problem
of whether Corsini is the occupant or not."
"Your theory is, then, either that this Madame Quero has more
conscience than her associates, or is in love with the young man and
has made up her mind to save him?"
Golitzine nodded his head. "If my suspicions are wrong, Corsini is at
one of two places, either at his hotel or at the Zouroff concert. He
told me yesterday he was going there to-night to play. We will send
round a guarded note to each, only to be delivered into his own
hands."
This was done, and the two men waited for the result. The man
despatched to the Palace returned first. He had inquired for Signor
Corsini and was told that he had left a long time ago.
The other messenger arrived a few seconds later. He had seen the
manager of the hotel. Corsini had not come back, a most unusual thing,
since for a man in his profession he kept early hours.
"The inference seems pretty clear," observed the General. "If he had
intended to stay at the house of some friends he would have told the
manager. Still, he may have gone on to some other party, although I
doubt it. Well, if Corsini is in that carriage, and it seems most
probable, we shall soon have him back in St. Petersburg."
"And when we get him back we must have him closely guarded," said
Golitzine; "at any rate until we have discovered the perpetrators of
this outrage."
"That may prove an easy matter, or one of great difficulty," was
Beilski's comment. "Madame Quero herself is, of course, no use to us.
She would never admit that she wrote that letter. Do you happen to
know her handwriting?"
"Yes; I have had half a dozen letters from her on professional
matters. The handwriting bears not the slightest resemblance to this.
But, of course, she would be too shrewd to write it herself, even in a
feigned hand. She dictated it to some female accomplice."
"By the way," added the Count as they separated for the night, "they
will bring back the occupant of the carriage, who I think we may
safely presume to be Corsini, to your own quarters, of course?"
"Of course," assented the General.
"Well, bring him on to me while his impressions are red-hot, you
understand? We want to bring it home to the real instigators."
* * * * *
While these two high functionaries were discussing matters, the
travelling carriage, with the senseless young man inside, was
proceeding on the Moscow road at a fast pace.
One of the two ruffians produced a stout piece of cord and proceeded
to twist it round the arms and legs of the helpless man.
"He doesn't seem capable of showing much fight," he said to his
companion with an evil grin, "but one never knows. A liver-hearted
chicken would fight for life and liberty. Best to make sure."
He bound him securely. The other man handled the violin-case which had
dropped from Corsini's hand when so suddenly assailed. His eyes
betrayed a covetous gleam.
"This is worth something, I expect, but we dare not handle it."
"More than our lives are worth," replied the other ruffian, in an
equally regretful tone. "There will be a hue and cry in St. Petersburg
to-morrow when it is known that the Director of the Imperial Opera has
disappeared. We must all lie low. Any attempt to realise on that
violin would give us away at once. Besides, we are being very
handsomely paid."
"That is true," grunted his companion in villainy, as he sank back on
his seat beside the unconscious man. "We don't ask too many questions,
but we can pretty shrewdly guess who is working this job. Peter is a
wary bird and doesn't let out much, but we know who is his master."
The carriage sped on through the gathering night till it reached
Pavlovsk. Here there had been ordered a relay of horses, which was
awaiting them at a small posting-house.
Corsini was still wrapt in a profound slumber. Once he had shown signs
of consciousness, and one of the two miscreants had given him another
dose of the powerful narcotic. It saved trouble, to keep him in that
condition till they reached their destination.
It had been a cold drive. The two men who had guarded the prisoner
stepped outside and stamped their feet. The other two, who were more
chilled, dismounted from the box.
The leader of the party peered at the unconscious figure. "He is still
in the land of dreams, my dear friends," he said. "Well, while he is
sleeping and we are changing horses, we will get a warm drink."
The four men tramped into the bar of the small inn, where they
comforted themselves with the refreshment they desired. They had no
wish to delay their departure, but it would take a few minutes to
change the tired horses, they might as well enjoy themselves in the
interval. They were members of the criminal class whom Peter, the
valet, had employed in his master's interests, but they were very game
fellows. They would never round on their old friend Peter.
Suddenly in the midst of their revels, for the one original drink had
extended itself to three or four, a decrepit old ostler shambled in
with a white and scared face. He was an aged man, toothless, and with
a voice that scarcely rose above a hoarse whisper.
"Every man who wants to save himself had better run as fast as he
can," he croaked, with a meaning glance at the four men assembled in
the small parlour. "The place is full of police. They have surrounded
the carriage. They will be inside in a moment."
The two younger men of the party took the hint at once, escaped
through a side door and bolted somewhere away in the darkness of the
night. The other two, staggered by the unexpected course of events,
had not wit or agility enough to save themselves. In a second they
were seized and handcuffed by the agents of the law.
Corsini's inanimate form was carried in. General Beilski had taken the
precaution to send a doctor along with the police. He had accurately
guessed that those who wanted to "deport a certain person," would take
the precaution of drugging him first and keeping him under narcotics
during the journey.
So heavily had the unfortunate young man been drugged, that it was
some time before the doctor could bring him to a waking state. At last
he opened his dazed eyes and gazed wonderingly round at the narrow
little room in which he had been laid.
"Where am I?" he ejaculated slowly. His senses were not yet well
ordered. He had hazy recollections of the Zouroff Palace, of a
conversation with the Princess Nada, a confession to her of his
ambition to be a great composer as well as a great executant, of a
walk through the silent streets, the sudden appearance of some men.
Then a blank.
The doctor bent over him and spoke in a soothing voice. In spite of
the ashen and livid face, he recognised him at once. The doctor came
from St. Petersburg in the company of the police, and he had seen the
portrait of the new Director of the Imperial Opera in several
newspapers. Here was some subtle mystery to which he had not the key.
"You are amongst friends, Signor Corsini. I am going to give you
another injection, and after that you will have a little light food
before we take you back to St. Petersburg."
Corsini's tired eyes wandered round the room. He saw the kind,
compassionate face of the doctor bending over the sofa on which he had
been laid. He saw also three men in police uniform and a tall, bearded
man who was evidently the leader of the party. Then his eyes closed
again and he relapsed into insensibility.
The doctor swore under his breath and turned to the tall, bearded man.
"They have nearly done for him with their infernal doping, but in an
hour from now I shall have him in trim to take back to the General.
Have you got all those scoundrels?"
The tall, bearded man shook his head with a melancholy air. "Alas!
only two of them, doctor. The other two escaped, warned, no doubt, by
some ruffian in this inn. Still, I have got two and I will do my best
to make them speak before I have done with them."