SCANDAL AND BLACKMAIL
AS the power of the monk Rasputin increased, so also my own social
position became advanced, until as the "saint's" confidential secretary,
and therefore as one who had his ear, I became on friendly terms with
half the nobility of Petrograd.
The pious fraud declared to true believers, "If you do not heed me, then
God will abandon you."
Leading as he was, freely and openly, a life of shameless debauchery,
wholesale blackmail and political intrigue, it is marvellous how his
power became so unlimited. To those who disbelieved in his doctrine or
in his divinity, he simply smiled evilly, and said: "If you fail to do my
bidding you will be punished by my friends."
Such warning was sufficient. Everyone knew that Rasputin's power was
already, in 1912, greater than that of the Tsar Nicholas himself. Day
after day ambitious men called at the house in the Gorokhovaya, to which
we had now moved, all of them anxious for ministerial and clerical
appointments, which he obtained for them at prices fixed by himself. The
highest in the land bowed before the rascal, while any man who dared to
belittle him, or attempt to thwart his evil designs, was at once removed
from office. Through Madame Vyrubova, who received her share of the
spoils and acted upon the Empress, Rasputin reigned as Tsar, the Emperor
doing little but sign his name to documents placed before him.
Thus Russia was compelled to witness a regular procession of officials
whom the "man of God" appointed, in accordance with value received. Even
Goremykin was compelled to bow before the mystic humbug. Rasputin for
five years caused to be appointed or dismissed all the bishops, and woe
betide any person who attempted to interfere with his power.
The Archbishop Theophanus, full of remorse at having lent a helping hand
to the scoundrel, tried to overthrow him by publicly denouncing his evil
practices, while the Bishop Hermogenes, who knew of the monk's past,
attempted to reveal it. In an instant the vengeance of Rasputin fell upon
them, Theophanus being sent to Tadriz, and Hermogenes confined to a
monastery. Helidor was hunted by the police and sought asylum abroad;
while a man named Grinevitch, who had also known Rasputin long ago at
Pokrovsky, was invited to dinner by the monk one night, and next morning
was found dead in his bed; while another was arrested by the police on a
false charge of conspiracy, and sent to prison for ten years, though
perfectly innocent.
Rasputin's overbearing insolence knew no bounds. Now that he was the
power behind the Throne, he compelled all to bow to him, the educated as
well as the peasantry. On entering a house, whether that of prince or
peasant, he would invariably kiss the young and pretty women, while he
would turn his back upon and refuse even to speak with those who were
older.
Our new house was larger and more luxurious than the old one. But it also
had the false telephone in the study, which was supposed by the "saint's"
dupes to be a private wire to the palace of Tsarskoe-Selo! The house had
been furnished entirely at the expense of the Empress, with valuable
Eastern carpets, fine furniture, tasteful hangings of silk, beautiful
pictures, autographed portraits of their Majesties, and, of course, ikons
of all sorts and sizes to impress the pious.
An example of the rogue's impudence occurred on Easter Day in 1912. We
were breakfasting with Madame Vyrubova's sister at her house just off the
Nevski. With us was Boris Stürmer and two minor officials of the Court,
and we were awaiting the coming of the Tsaritza's favourite lady in
waiting.
At last she arrived from Tsarskoe-Selo bearing a parcel for Grichka,
which she gave him merrily, saying:
"The Empress has made this for you with her own hands. She spent part of
last night in finishing it for you, so that you should have it as an
Easter present."
The "saint" cut the string and withdrew a blue silk coat of the kind he
was in the habit of wearing, in the Russian style, over loose trousers
and high boots of patent leather.
"Alix wishes you to wear it to-day," Madame Vyrubova went on, "after you
have taken Holy Communion."
Rasputin, with a disappointed look, cast it and its paper upon the floor,
and said:
"Now let us have breakfast," and promptly began to eat with his fingers,
as he always did, in order to show his contempt for the more refined
manners of those about him.
A few weeks after this incident there occurred the Ganskau affair, which
was a most disgraceful transaction, and which was very carefully hushed
up. Though there were many rumours in Petrograd concerning it, I am able
to place the whole of the astounding facts on record here for the first
time.
Rasputin, tiring of his lascivious pleasures, also became bored by those
who called in order to enlist his influence in their cause for monetary
consideration. Hence he surrounded himself with a trio of expert
swindlers. They consisted of a certain adventurous prince named
Gorianoff, a man named Striaptchef--who had been his companion in his
early horse-stealing days in his native Pokrovsky--and a notorious woman
named Sabler. These precious persons constituted a sort of bodyguard, and
they first interviewed any petitioner, fixed the amount of the gift
proposed to the "holy man" for the exercise of his influence, and carried
out the "deal."
If a wealthy man desired a Government appointment; if an under-secretary
desired a portfolio; if a wife desired her husband's advancement or his
appointment to an office at Court; if a father desired a lucrative job
for his profligate son; or if a rich man, who was being watched by the
police because of some crime he had committed, wished to escape
scot-free, then they interviewed the elegant Prince Gorianoff at his
house in the Zacharievskaya. This individual, whom the police of Europe
know as a Continental swindler, would quickly gauge the petitioner's
means, and screw from him every rouble possible before putting the matter
before the caster out of devils.
One day, as I sat alone at lunch with Rasputin, the prince called, and
sitting down at the table unceremoniously declared:
"I have done a very good stroke of business this morning, my dear
Gregory. You have probably heard of Ganskau of Tver."
"The great banker, eh?"
"The same. He is one of the wealthiest men in Russia. He wants
something, and he can afford to pay, though he seems very close-fisted at
present."
"What does he want?" growled the monk.
The scoundrel who bore the title of prince made a grimace, and said:
"He wants to put a suggestion before you. He refuses to tell me what it
is--except that it is very urgent and brooks no delay. I told him that he
would have to pay five thousand roubles if he desired to have an
interview--and he has paid it. Here is the money!" And he drew from his
pocket a bundle of banknotes.
"But, my dear Peter," exclaimed the pious fraud, "I have no time to
barter with these people. I cannot see him."
"Take my advice, Gregory, and listen to what he has to say," replied the
adventurer, who had lived all his life on his wits in London, Paris and
Rome--and had lived well too. "If I am not mistaken he will tell you a
strange thing, and if you get it down in writing--in writing,
remember--that letter will be worth a very large sum of money in the near
future. As I have said--he wants something urgently--and he must be made
to pay."
"Very well," Rasputin replied grudgingly. "I will see him--at four
o'clock this afternoon. Féodor," he added, turning to me, "make a note
that I see this banker man."
At four o'clock punctually a fine car drew up, and a stout, overdressed,
full-bearded man alighted and was shown into the room where I awaited him
with the prince.
"Ah!" cried the latter, welcoming him warmly. "You had my message over
the telephone. I have, after great difficulty, induced the holy Father to
consent to see you. He is due at Tsarskoe-Selo, but he has just
telephoned to the Empress that he is delayed. And the delay is in order
to hear you."
"I am sure I am most grateful, Prince," declared the banker, who seemed
very pale and much agitated. His wealth was proverbial in Russia, and
even in banking circles in Paris and London. His brother was one of the
secretaries of the Russian Embassy in Paris.
With due ceremony, after the banker had removed his light
overcoat, I conducted him into the monk's presence.
As Ganskau bowed towards the mysterious influence behind the Imperial
Throne, I saw the quick, inquisitive hawk's glance which Rasputin gave
him. Then I turned and, closing the door, left the pair together, and
returned to where the prince was waiting. Gorianoff was a clever and
unscrupulous scoundrel of exquisite manners and most plausible tongue. It
was for that reason that the holy Father employed him.
As he leaned back in a padded arm-chair, smoking lazily while he awaited
his victim's reappearance, he laughed merrily and whispered to me that
the rich man from Tver would, "if properly handled," prove a gold mine.
"Mind, Féodor--be careful to impress upon the Father to obtain something
incriminating from the banker in writing. He is hard pressed, I know, and
in order to save himself he will commit any folly."
"Men who are pushed into a corner seldom pause to think," I remarked.
"If the police are upon them, as I know they are in this case, then no
time is afforded for reflection."
By the prince's manner I knew that he felt confident of making big
profits. The great Ganskau, the Rothschild of Russia, desired Gregory's
aid, and Gregory would assist him--at a price. While we were talking
Madame Vyrubova rang on the telephone to inquire if Rasputin had left for
Tsarskoe-Selo.
I replied in the negative, whereupon she said: "Tell him not to come
to-night. The Emperor has quarrelled with Alix, and it will be best for
him to be absent. The boy [meaning the little Tsarevitch] will be taken
ill in the night, and then he can come to-morrow and heal him."
I understood. The woman Vyrubova, so trusted by the Tsaritza, was about
to administer another dose of that baneful drug to the poor invalid
boy--a drug which would produce partial paralysis, combined with symptoms
which puzzled every physician called to see him.
It was not until nearly half an hour later that Rasputin opened the door
of his room, and, crossing himself piously, laid his hands upon his
breast and dismissed his petitioner.
"Your desire shall be granted," he said in final farewell. "But you must
write me the reason you desire my assistance. I always insist upon that
in every case."
"But--well, it is not nice to confess," declared the desperate man,
pausing on the threshold of the room.
"Probably not. But you do confess to me, and surely you can trust me, a
servant of Heaven, with your secret? If not, please do not rely upon
Gregory Rasputin," he added proudly.
For a second the victim hesitated. Then he said in a low, hard voice: "I
will do as you wish--well knowing that you will keep the truth a secret."
Rasputin, his hands still crossed upon his breast, bowed stiffly, and the
banker, recognising us standing at the end of the passage, walked towards
us.
As soon as he had left the house, Rasputin called us, and throwing
himself into a chair became unduly hilarious.
"Really, Peter, you are extremely clever!" he declared. "Where you find
these people I do not know. You said you had done a good stroke of
business, but I did not believe you. Yet now I see that the banker's
millions of roubles are entirely at our disposal. We must be
diplomatic--that is all!"
"Why does he require your influence?" inquired the prince.
"In order to extricate himself from a very dangerous position. At any
moment he may be arrested for murder!"
"For murder!" Gorianoff echoed. "Is he guilty of murder?"
"Yes. He has confessed the truth to me as a father confessor. Now he has
promised to put his confession down in black and white."
In an instant I saw the trend of Rasputin's evil thoughts. By the written
confession he would, through his princely friend, be able to extort money
without limit.
"Of what is he in fear?" asked the prince eagerly.
"Of arrest for the murder of a young French girl, Elise Allain, who had
been singing at the Bouffes in Moscow," Rasputin replied. "He has just
told me how he committed the crime three months ago, in order to rid
himself of her, and escaped to Brussels believing that the police would
never be able to establish his guilt. On his return to Tver three days
ago, however, he found that the police had been making active inquiries,
having discovered in one of the dead girl's trunks that had been left at
the station cloak-room in Warsaw, certain letters from him. Indeed, he
has received a visit from the Chief of Police at Tver, who closely
questioned him."
"Ah! Then he may be arrested at any moment--eh?"
"That is what he anticipates," said the monk. "He has gone to his hotel
to write his confession, and will return here in an hour with a banker's
draft for one hundred thousand roubles."
"Did I not say that I had been doing some good business, Gregory?" asked
his friend.
"Yes--and it will prove better business later--you will see."
At Rasputin's orders I went round to Malinovsky, Assistant Director of
Police, who at the monk's request telephoned to Tver to inquire what
suspicions there were against the banker Ganskau. When Malinovsky
returned to where I was sitting, he told me that the reply of the Chief
of Police of Tver was to the effect that there was no doubt that Ganskau
was guilty of a very brutal murder, committed in most mysterious
circumstances. The banker's wife, with whom he lived on very disagreeable
terms, had discovered a letter from the girl Elise, and duly handed it
to the police out of revenge. This led them to find the box at Warsaw
wherein were other letters, one of which forbade her to come to Russia,
and threatening her with violence if she disobeyed.
I returned at once to the Gorokhovaya, where the monk and the prince sat
with a bottle of champagne between them, and gave them the message.
A quarter of an hour later the banker returned excitedly, and was ushered
in to Rasputin, who saw him alone. They remained together for about ten
minutes, and then the victim departed.
At once the monk came to us, waving in one hand Ganskau's confession of
guilt, and in the other a draft on the Azov Bank for one hundred thousand
roubles.
"I suppose we had better pretend to do something--eh, Peter?" asked the
monk, with an evil grin.
"Of course," was the reply.
Then I sat down, and at the "holy man's" dictation wrote to the Minister
of the Interior as follows:
"There is a charge of murder against Nicholas Ganskau, banker, of
Tver. I wish to see all documents concerning the crime. Orders
must be given not to arrest the assassin for one month, and that
due notice be given me before any action is taken."
To this the monk scrawled his illiterate signature.
From that moment the unfortunate banker was irretrievably in Rasputin's
hands, and I saw much of his dealings with him. Pretending to leave
everything with his friend Prince Gorianoff, he refused to see the guilty
man again. In the meantime the prince, whom I accompanied as the monk's
secretary, went to Tver three weeks after the first transaction, and we
saw the victim in secret. Gorianoff told him that, although the monk had
been able to prevent his arrest, the police were not satisfied, and
pressure was being placed upon them by one of his enemies in high places.
This, of course, greatly alarmed him.
"All is unfortunately due to your wife!" the prince remarked. "It is a
pity you have not made peace with her. It was she who took one of the
girl's letters to the police."
The banker started up as though electrified.
"My wife!" he gasped. "Is it her doing?"
"Most certainly," was the prince's cool reply. "Féodor knows it. He had
it from the Chief of Police of this city himself."
I confirmed my companion's statement, while the banker, terror and
despair written upon his pale features, stood staring like one who saw
death before him.
"My wife left me a fortnight ago!" he stammered. "That is why. She
expected me to be arrested. What can I do? How can you help me? Who is
this enemy in a high position who is determined upon my arrest?"
"The holy Father alone knows; I do not," declared the prince very
seriously. "It is somebody at Court--somebody who is a friend of his and
who let the fact drop in the course of conversation. I regret it, but I
may as well tell you that your arrest is imminent."
"But what can I do to avoid the scandal?" cried the murderer in despair.
"Well--the only way is to propitiate your unknown enemy," replied the
prince insinuatingly.
"I gave the Father a hundred thousand roubles," he remarked.
"True; and the Father used his influence so that the inquiries were
dropped. He had no knowledge of the fact that you had such a bitter and
relentless enemy in the higher Court circle."
"Nor had I. I wonder who it can be--except, perhaps, Boyadko, with whom I
once had some financial dealings over which we quarrelled."
As a matter of fact, the unknown enemy only existed in Rasputin's fertile
imagination.
"Well, as I have said, the Father may find means of propitiating him--if
the payment is a liberal one," said Gorianoff. "I suggest that you return
with us to Petrograd at once, and I will endeavour to accomplish
something."
Eagerly he acted upon the adventurer's advice. During the journey the
banker was nervous lest at any moment the police might lay hands upon
him. At each station the sight of a grey uniform caused him to hold his
breath. Thus to work upon his nerves was part of the prince's game, for
he well knew that the more terrified Ganskau became, the greater amount
of money he would be prepared to pay.
Back in Petrograd he begged of Rasputin to receive him, and the monk,
after two refusals on the plea that he was too busy, at last consented
ungraciously.
The result of that interview was that Nicholas Ganskau disgorged a
further hundred thousand roubles for the bribing of an enemy who did not
exist!
After the banker had left, Rasputin, full of satisfaction as he held the
draft for the amount in his dirty paw, dictated to me another letter
addressed to the Minister of the Interior, which read:
"His Majesty the Emperor, having full knowledge of the charge of
murder made against Nicholas Ganskau of Tver, orders that the
inquiries concerning the case be abandoned and that the person
suspected be not further molested."
This was duly signed by the monk and delivered by me at the Ministry an
hour later.
Such orders Rasputin frequently gave in the name of His Majesty, who,
even if he knew of them, never questioned them.
This, however, did not end the affair, for twelve months afterwards
Ganskau, who, scot-free, had taken up his residence in the Avenue
Villiers, in Paris, where he was leading a very gay life, received an
unexpected visit from Prince Gorianoff, who, making pretence that he had
severed his friendship with Rasputin, hinted that as the monk held in his
possession the written confession of his crime, it might be worth while
to obtain and destroy it.
This suggestion Ganskau at once welcomed, thanking the prince for his
kindly intervention.
Then the latter made a remark which in itself showed how expert a
blackmailer he was.
"You see, as the girl Elise was a French subject, if the French police
ever get hold of the truth it would go very badly with you," he declared.
The banker's face went pale as death.
"I never thought of that!" he gasped. "Yes, I must get that confession at
all hazards," he cried.
"I am prepared to assist you," said the scoundrel coolly. "Of course to
obtain it from such a man as Rasputin presents many difficulties. He will
never part with it willingly."
"Then how shall we get it?"
"It must be stolen."
The banker remained silent for a few moments.
"You see," went on the prince, "one can never tell into whose hands may
fall that collection of confessions which the Father has extracted from
those who are guilty."
"And you think you can obtain it for me?" asked the banker.
"I am still friendly with many of Rasputin's friends. It is merely a
matter of payment--another hundred thousand roubles, and surely it is
worth it."
The banker, seeing himself in great danger should either Rasputin or his
visitor turn against him, at length consented, and before Gorianoff left
he had in his pocket a draft upon the Crédit Lyonnais for the sum
mentioned. The assassin had at first made it a condition that the
confession should be handed to him before he paid, but the prince pointed
out that the money was required for bribery, and would have to be paid
before the confession could be extracted from Rasputin's safe.
Needless to say, the banker never received back his written confession of
his crime, and so constant was the strain of his guilty conscience and
his hourly dread of arrest and capital punishment, that a year later he
shot himself at an hotel in Plymouth.
Another illustration of the monk's greed and unscrupulousness was the
Violle affair.
Monsieur Felix Violle, a Frenchman who had become a naturalised Russian,
and who carried on business as a wholesale furrier in the Nevski in
Petrograd, had a very pretty young wife. One day, at one of the weekly
reunions of the sister-disciples, this young woman was brought by Madame
Vyrubova's sister, she having expressed her desire to enter Rasputin's
cult. There were present on that occasion about thirty other women,
mostly young and good-looking, and nearly all of the highest society in
Petrograd. The youngest present was about seventeen, the daughter of a
certain countess who was one of Rasputin's most attached devotees.
After Madame Violle had been initiated into the secrets of the erotic
sect, the whole party sat down to tea, when a photograph was taken by one
of the ladies, which showed Madame Violle seated by the "holy Father."
Rasputin, from that day, took a great deal of interest in the furrier's
wife. He introduced her to Anna Vyrubova, who presented her to the
Empress. Hence, from being a tradesman's wife, Olga Violle, within a
fortnight, had entered the vicious Court circle which revolved around
Alexandra Feodorovna, and which was rapidly conspiring to betray Russia
into the hands of the Germans.
Madame Violle told her husband nothing of her social advancement. The
furrier was in a large way of business, a man of means who liked to see
his wife well dressed; therefore she was able to cut an elegant figure at
Court. She accounted for her absences from home by the fact that she
frequently visited a married sister living about twenty miles outside
Petrograd.
Under the evil hypnotic influence of Rasputin, the smart little woman,
who often called at the house and whom I sometimes met at the palace, was
quickly transformed from a steady tradesman's wife into a giddy,
pleasure-loving and intriguing degenerate, perhaps even more vicious than
the rest. Indeed, it was this very fact which caused the Empress to look
upon her with favour. Thus she soon had the run of the private
apartments, and became upon friendly terms with both Stürmer and
Fredericks.
This went on for some months, and even at the Imperial Court, where
nobody was over-squeamish, the conduct of little Madame Violle--who came
from nowhere and whose past was quite obscure except to Rasputin, Madame
Vyrubova, her sister and myself--was looked upon somewhat askance.
Violle, who was most devoted to his extremely pretty wife, one day had a
sudden shock. By some means a copy of the photograph of the
sister-disciples went astray in the post. A photographer obtained
possession of it and promptly made some picture post-cards, which were
quickly upon the market, much to Rasputin's chagrin. Somebody,
recognising Madame Violle in the picture, sent one anonymously to her
husband. The result was a terrible domestic scene.
Madame Olga came to Rasputin in great distress, and in my presence,
falling upon her knees before him, in tears, kissed his unwashed hands
and begged him to advise her.
"Your precious husband has made a fool of himself," the monk remarked
grimly. "Let him take warning lest Gregory Rasputin lift his hand against
him. Return home, and tell him that from me."
That was all the advice he would give her. He was full of anger that the
woman who had taken the picture should have been so negligent as to allow
a copy to fall into the hands of others. Always elusive, he hated to be
photographed, as he feared that it might constitute evidence against him.
The pretty woman, still much agitated, went out, and took train to
Tsarskoe-Selo, where she had audience of Her Majesty, who, in turn, urged
her to defy her husband.
Meanwhile the latter was going about Petrograd in a state of fury at
discovering that his wife was one of the monk's followers. But he was
not the first furious husband who had had cause to hate the hypnotic
peasant. The man Striaptchef and the woman Sabler, who constituted
Rasputin's bodyguard, assisted by Prince Gorianoff, quickly heard of the
furrier's anger and told the monk. Therefore it was not with any degree
of surprise that, when a ring came at the door late that same night, I
found myself face to face with the wronged husband.
"I wish to see the Father," he said quite coolly.
"I regret that he is out," was my prompt reply.
"You lie!" he shouted. "He is at home. This house has been watched ever
since six o'clock, when he returned. I will see him, and you dare not
stop me."
Then, ere I was aware of it, he seized me by the throat, hurled me back
into the entrance-hall, and before I could prevent him marched straight
to Rasputin's room.
I dashed after him, hearing the monk's shouts for assistance, and on
entering found the "holy man" lying on the floor and the infuriated
Violle lashing him with a short whip he carried. The scene was a dramatic
one. The scoundrel was shrieking with pain, and in endeavouring to avoid
the blows succeeded in rising, but as he did so the furrier administered
another sound whack, which sent the Empress's pet "saint" skipping across
the room howling.
"You dog of a mock monk!" cried the furrier. "Take that!--and that!--_and
that!_"
So beside himself with anger was he that I believe he would have beaten
Rasputin to death had not Striaptchef dashed in, and together we
succeeded in dragging the angry man off and turning him out of the house.
As soon as the "saint" had recovered from the _fracas_, he gave vent to a
volley of fearful oaths, cursing the pretty woman who had been the cause
of the assault.
"She shall be kicked out. I will see that she goes to the palace no
more," he declared. "If a woman cannot manage her husband then she is
dangerous. And Olga Violle has proved herself to be dangerous. I will
see that Alix dismisses her to-morrow. And all on account of that
thrice-accursed picture-making. To think that I--the Saviour of Russia,
sent to these people by the Almighty--should be whipped like a dog!"
He strode up and down foaming with fury.
"The skin-dealer shall suffer!" he cried. "I'll make him pay dearly for
this!"
Then, turning to me, he ordered me to go at once to Manuiloff, Stürmer's
secretary, adding: "Bring him to me. Tell him that it is a matter of
greatest urgency."
I had great difficulty in finding the man he had indicated, and who was
one of Russia's "dark forces." He was not at his house, but by bribing
the doorkeeper I learned that he would be found in a very questionable
gambling-house in the vicinity. There I discovered him and drove him to
the Gorokhovaya.
"Listen," the monk said as I ushered him in. "There is a furrier in the
Nevski named Violle. Both he and his wife are dangerous revolutionists
and must be arrested at once. You understand--eh?"
Manuiloff, the catspaw of both Stürmer and Rasputin, and who was well
paid to do any dirty work allotted to him, did not quite understand.
"You denounce him--eh?" he asked. "There are reasons, of course."
"Of course there are reasons, you fool, or I should not bring you here at
this hour to tell you of the conspiracy against the Throne. I make the
allegation; you must furnish the proofs. Do you now understand?" asked
the "saint."
"Ah, I see! You want some documents introduced into the furrier's house
incriminating both him and his wife?"
"Exactly. And at once. They must both be arrested before noon to-morrow,"
Rasputin said. "I shall leave all the details to you, well knowing that
they will be in good hands, my dear Manuiloff," laughed Rasputin grimly.
"One thing is important. There must be no loophole for either of them to
escape. The Empress wills it so. Both must be sent to Schlüsselburg. Tell
His Excellency so from me. We want no trial or attempt at scandal. The
pair are dangerous--dangerous to us. Now do you understand?"
Manuiloff, who had forged incriminating documents many times, and who had
a dozen underlings who assisted him in these nefarious deeds, understood
perfectly. He was paid to act as his two chiefs directed, and dozens of
innocent persons were rotting in prison at that moment because they had
fallen beneath Rasputin's displeasure.
So it was that by noon next day both Violle and his pretty wife--who had
only the day before been a close friend of the Tsaritza--were on their
way to Schlüsselburg as dangerous to the State.
Truly, the monk had neither scruples nor honesty, neither compunction nor
pity; for the woman who was his favourite he had turned upon and sent to
that grim island fortress, where in one of those terrible oubliettes
below the level of the lake her death took place eight months later.