THE "PERFUME OF DEATH"
"I AM much grieved to hear of the disaster at Obukhov. The
accident to Colonel Zinovief is most deplorable. Please place a
wreath upon his grave from me. Pray always for us.
"ALIX."
This was the text of a telegram addressed to Rasputin from the Empress,
which I opened when it was placed in my hands. It had been sent from
Bakhtchisaray, the Oriental town in the Crimea, where Alexandra
Feodorovna had gone to visit the military hospitals, it being necessary
for her to pose before Russia as sympathetic to the wounded.
The disaster to which she referred had taken place at the great steel
works at Obukhov, the outrage having been committed by two German secret
agents named Lachkarioff and Filimonoff, who had visited Rasputin and
from whose hand they had received German money. Nearly five hundred lives
had been lost, as the foundry had been in close proximity to an
explosives factory, where Colonel Zinovief, the director, had been blown
to atoms.
It was late at night, and the monk, who was in a state of
semi-intoxication, on hearing of the wish of Her Majesty, remarked:
"Ah! a clever woman, Féodor--very clever. She never misses an opportunity
to show her sympathy with the people. Oh! yes--order the wreath to-morrow
from Solovioff in the Nevski--a fine large one." Then laughing, he added:
"The people, when they see it, will never suspect that Alexandra
Feodorovna knew of the pending disaster eight days ago. But," he added
suddenly, after a pause, "is it not time, Féodor, that I saw another
vision?"
I laughed. I knew how, during the week that had elapsed since our return
from the secret visit to Potsdam, he was constantly holding reunions of
his sister-disciples, many fresh "converts" being admitted to the new
religion.
Both Lachkarioff and Filimonoff, authors of the terrible disaster at
Obukhov, had been furnished with passports by Protopopoff, and were
already well on their way to Sweden, but the catastrophe was the signal
for a terrible period of unrest throughout Russia, and in the fortnight
that followed, rumours, purposely started by German agents and the secret
police under Protopopoff, assumed most alarming proportions.
All was the creation of Rasputin's evil brain. With the Emperor and
Empress absent in the South, he had, with the connivance of "No. 70,
Berlin," determined to undermine the moral of the whole nation by
disseminating false reports and arranging for disaster after disaster.
In the "saint's" study in the Gorokhovaya there was arranged the terrible
railway "accident" which occurred near Smolensk, in which a crowded troop
train collided with an ambulance train, the wreckage being run into by a
second troop train, all three trains eventually taking fire and burning.
The exact loss of life will never be known.
Another outrage was the destruction of the big railway bridge over the
River Tvertza, not far from Kava, thus blocking the Petrograd-Moscow
line, while a train conveying high explosives made in England a few days
later blew up while passing the station of Odozerskaja, completely
wrecking the line between Archangel and Petrograd and killing nearly
three hundred people.
Each of these outrages was arranged in my presence, and I was compelled
to assist in counting the money which was afterwards given by the monk to
their perpetrators as price of their perfidy.
"We must create unrest," Rasputin declared one night to His Excellency
the Minister Protopopoff, as the precious pair sat together. "We must
prepare Russia for disaster."
Hence it was that they arranged for a series of most alarming false
rumours to be circulated throughout the length and breadth of the Empire.
Indeed, on the day following, I heard in a bank where I had business that
all Moscow was involved in a great revolution, that the Moscow police
were on strike, and that the troops had refused to fire upon the
populace. Everyone stood aghast at the news. But the truth was that the
telegraphs and telephones between Moscow and Petrograd had been wilfully
cut in three places by agents of Protopopoff, and while those alarming
rumours were current in Petrograd, similar rumours were rife in Moscow
that revolution had broken out in the capital.
Rasputin and his friends in the course of a few days created a veritable
whirlwind of false reports, hoping by that means to shatter or stifle all
manifestations of patriotic feeling, and prepare Russia for a separate
peace.
Meanwhile he had contrived, as the Kaiser ordered, to prevent the
offensive being resumed in Poland; and yet so cleverly did he effect all
this that General Brusiloff, who was at the south-west front, actually
gave an interview to a British journalist, declaring that the war was
already won, "though it was merely speculation to estimate how much
longer will be required before the enemy are convinced that the cause for
the sake of which they have drenched Europe in blood is irretrievably
lost."
The cold white light of later events has indeed revealed the black hearts
of Rasputin and his friends, for while all this was in progress Stürmer,
though so active in the betrayal of his country, boldly made a speech
deploring the fact that anyone credited the sinister rumours which his
fellow-conspirators had started, and to save his face he warned the
working-classes to remain patient and prosecute the war with vigour.
I recollect well the day he had made that speech--the day on which the
Labour group of the Central War Industrial Committee issued its
declaration. There was a reunion of the sister-disciples, at which three
new members were admitted to the cult, all society women under thirty,
and all good-looking. Their names were Baroness Térénine, whose husband
had been Governor of Yaroslav; Countess Chidlovski, one of the
acknowledged society beauties of Petrograd, who had of late had an
"affair" with an Italian tenor named Baccelli; and Anna, the pretty young
daughter of a woman named Friede, who was also a "disciple."
There was a large attendance, and Rasputin exhibited more than the usual
mock piety. In his jumbled jargon, which he called a sermon--that mixture
of quotations from the "Lives of Saints" mingled with horrible
obscenities--he had referred to the terrible rumours.
"These, I fear, my dear sisters, are, alas! too true," he declared.
"Being in the position of knowing much, I beg of you all to pray
ceaselessly, and let these three who to-day join our holy circle take
upon themselves the duty of obtaining fresh converts, and thus ensure to
themselves the blessing of him who stands here before you--the saviour of
Russia."
Then he paused, and all the kneeling women crossed themselves, piously
murmuring, as was part of the creed:
"God's will be done! God's will be done! Truly, our Father Gregory is
holy! Truly, the sacrifice which each and all of us make is made to God!"
The three newly-admitted aspirants, dressed in very flimsy black in the
mode which the monk imposed upon them, knelt before the Father and kissed
his hands, while from his lips fell those awful blasphemies, which,
amazing as it was, hypnotised, neurotic society women believed to be the
truth.
Afterwards Rasputin gave them all tea and cake, he being personally
waited upon by the three neophytes. Then, half-an-hour after the last one
had departed--for the three had remained behind with him for further
private instruction and conversation, as was usual--the Prime Minister
Stürmer was announced.
"I have made the speech you suggested," he declared to the monk as he
sank into a chair. "Phew! what a smell of perfume, my dear Gregory!" he
laughed. "Your sister-disciples have left it behind them. Open the
window, Féodor," he exclaimed, turning to me. "Let us have some fresh
air."
The monk then explained that while Stürmer had made that public
declaration he had told the women that the situation was grave, well
knowing that they, in turn, would tell their husbands, and the rumours
would quickly be propagated.
"I have had another reassuring telegram from Downing Street," Stürmer
remarked, with a grin. "I dare not publish it, otherwise it would upset
our friends in Berlin."
"As I have told you, the Kaiser forbids the publication of any of our
reassurances from France or England--especially from the English, whom he
hates so deeply. What, I wonder, will be the fate of the English when he
is able to send an army of invasion across the North Sea?"
"If he is ever able. I doubt it," remarked the traitorous Premier of
Russia.
"He certainly intends doing so," said Rasputin. "And when he does I
should be sorry to be in Britain. They will treat the civilians worse
than they did the Belgians."
"Yes; he intended being in Paris two years ago," replied the goat-bearded
_débauché_ in uniform.
"It is time I saw another vision," said the monk presently. "I shall see
one to-night most probably--one concerning our defeat."
"Do," urged Stürmer. "You have not had a vision for quite a long time. It
impresses all classes, and we can make so much use of it when dealing
with Nicholas. He believes as thoroughly in your visions as in the
spirit-voice of the dead Alexander."
Next day the whole world of Petrograd was startled.
To Grichka the Blessed Virgin had once again revealed herself, just as
she had done years ago to the peasant girl at Lourdes.
The Procurator of the Holy Synod called to see him at noon to inquire of
him personally, and ascertain what he had seen. Rasputin, with his hands
crossed over his breast, turned his dark eyes heavenward, and said:
"It is true that last night, just after midnight, as I was praying in my
room, Our Lady appeared unto me in a cloud of shining light. She was
clothed in bright blue, and in her hands she bore a bunch of lilies.
Behind her I saw a picture of a great battlefield, where our soldiers
were retreating in disorder, being shot down in hundreds by the
machine-guns of the enemy--and worse--and worse!" And the charlatan hid
his face in his hands as though to shut out the horror of the
recollection.
"What else?" asked the head of the Russian Church. "Tell me, O Father."
"It is too terrible--the public must not know----" he gasped, as though
in fear. "I saw our Emperor killed on the field of battle; he was struck
in the head by a piece of shell from one of the German long-range guns,
and half his face was blown away. Ugh!" And he shuddered. "The sight of
it was terrible. My blood ran cold. Nicholas, our Emperor, dead! I saw
Brusiloff, too, lying shot, with a dozen other generals. Then the scene
changed, and I saw the burial of the Emperor with all pomp, and his widow
Alexandra Feodorovna following the coffin."
"And then?"
"Then Our Lady opened her lips, and I heard her voice," went on the
"holy" liar. "She spake to me slowly and solemnly, saying: 'O Gregory,
what thou hast witnessed is decreed to take place within forty days from
to-day! These scenes will be enacted upon Russian soil--and worse. The
people of Petrograd, Moscow and Warsaw will be put to the sword by the
enemy, who have right and justice upon their side. Russia has fallen away
from God, and is now accursed.' I shrieked at those fateful words. But
she repeated them, adding: 'Thou, O Gregory, canst still save Russia if
thou wilt raise thy voice in warning. Peace must be effected. Let those
who are in alliance with Russia fight on if they will, but let Russia
remain holy for the sake of its innocent people and its great Imperial
house. Warn His Majesty at once, warn his Ministers, to cut themselves
adrift from those nations which are seeking to profit by their alliance
with Russia. Compel them to make peace with the Emperor William. If this
is not concluded within forty days, then God's wrath will fall upon this
land. Thou art sent by God as His apostle, therefore take heed and take
instant action!' And a second later she had faded out, and there was
nothing but darkness."
I could see how greatly our visitor was impressed.
"The Emperor should surely know," he said, astounded.
"Yes, but we must not alarm the public too greatly," Rasputin replied.
"Already it is on everyone's lips," exclaimed the other. "The wildest
stories are afloat concerning the Blessed Virgin's appearance to you. We
certainly must have peace with Germany. That is what everyone is saying,
except members of the Duma and the war party."
Thus, by pretending to have seen a vision at an hour when, truth to tell,
he had been snoring in a drunken sleep, half Russia grew alarmed,
including the Emperor and Empress, who both hurried back to
Tsarskoe-Selo, where Rasputin repeated with much embellishment what he
had told the Procurator of the Holy Synod.
Just at the moment Rasputin was engaged upon a piece of outrageous
blackmailing, which I think ought to be recorded against him.
The facts were briefly as follow. The German agent Lachkarioff, who with
his accomplice had blown up the Obukhov steel works and was now safe in
Sweden, had, while in Petrograd, made the acquaintance of a certain
Madame Doukhovski, the young wife of the President of the Superior
Tribunal at Kharkof. She was a giddy little woman, and the monk had
plotted with old Countess Ignatieff to entice her to join the cult, but
she had always refused. Lachkarioff was a good-looking, well-dressed man,
who posed as a commercial magnate of Riga, and she, I suppose, fell
beneath his charm. At any rate, for a long time the pair were
inseparable.
One day the German agent, who was an exceedingly wily person, came to
Rasputin and told him that he had induced the young lady of Kharkof to
reveal to him certain secrets concerning the dealings of Soukhomlinoff
and the supply of machine-guns for the Army--facts which had been
presented in strictest confidence by one of the War Minister's enemies to
the President of the Kharkof tribunal.
Rasputin smiled in triumph when he heard the exact details which Madame
Doukhovski had divulged.
"Sit down yonder, my friend, and put that into writing, and sign it,"
said the monk, indicating the table by the window.
"You will not punish her for her indiscretion, I hope," remarked the man,
who was at the moment plotting that series of terrible disasters.
"Not in the least," Rasputin assured him. "Your friend is my friend. But
when such statements are made I like to have them on record. If
Soukhomlinoff comes up for trial--which I very much doubt--then the
memorandum may be of use to prove what silly and baseless gossip has been
in circulation."
In consequence of this assurance, Lachkarioff wrote down what had been
told him by the judge's wife, a document which the "saint" preserved with
much care--until the Obukhov catastrophe had taken place and its author
was out of Russia. Then he wrote to Madame Doukhovski and asked her to
call upon him upon an urgent matter concerning her husband.
In surprise, and perhaps a little anxious, she kept the appointment one
afternoon, and I ushered her into the monk's room.
He rose, and, addressing her roughly, said:
"So you have obeyed me, woman! And it is best for you that you have done
so. Hitherto you have held me in contempt and refused all invitations to
visit me. Why?"
"Because I am not a believer," was her open, straightforward answer.
"Then you will believe me ere I have done," he declared, with an evil
grin, stroking his ragged beard, and fixing his eyes upon her.
"You insult me," she cried angrily. "Why should you speak to me like
this?"
"Because you have been an associate of Felix Lachkarioff--a traitor and a
spy," he declared in that deep, hard voice of his. "Oh! you cannot deny
it. Your husband has no knowledge that you were an intimate friend of the
man who has fled from Russia after causing that frightful disaster at
Obukhov. Is not that so?"
The handsome, dark-haired woman whom the spy had so grossly betrayed
turned pale, and sat utterly staggered that her secret was out. She had
never dreamed that the handsome, polite man who had one day been
presented to her in the lounge of the Hôtel d'Europe was a German agent,
that he was engaged in committing outrages on behalf of the enemy, or
that he was friendly with the monk.
"Your husband does not know that spy? Answer me?" demanded Rasputin
roughly.
"I have told my husband nothing," was her faltering reply.
"That is not surprising, Madame," laughed the "saint," leaning back in
the chair where he had seated himself, "especially when you have told
that spy certain secrets of our Government, which you obtained by
examining the dossiers which have been passing through your husband's
hands."
"What do you mean?" she cried, starting up in indignation.
"Ah, no," he said; "it is useless to pretend ignorance, Madame. Read
this!"
And he handed her a copy of what the German agent had written, saying: "I
have the original, which I am passing to the authorities, so that they
may take what action they deem best against you as a traitor and against
your husband for negligence!"
The unfortunate woman, when she scanned the statement, went pale to the
lips, fully realising the extreme seriousness of the nature of her
offence, now that her admirer was known to be a spy of Germany.
"But you won't do that?" she gasped. "Think, Father, what it would mean
both to my husband and myself! Think!" she cried hoarsely.
"You have revealed the contents of certain highly confidential documents
to the Germans," the monk said. "You do not deny it. You, Madame
Doukhovski, are a traitor to Russia, and evidence of your treachery is
contained in that confession of a German spy whom you assisted and whom
you----"
"I looked at the dossiers on my husband's table because Monsieur
Lachkarioff asked me to do so," she declared. "He told me he was a friend
of Soukhomlinoff, and that he was doing all he could to assist in
clearing him of the charges levelled against him. I believed him,
alas!--I was foolish enough to believe that he spoke the truth. And now
he has betrayed me!"
"I suppose you were infatuated by the man," laughed the monk scornfully.
"If you were so weak, then you must pay the penalty."
"And that is--what?" she asked breathlessly, and pale as death.
"Exposure," replied the charlatan who was the head of the traitorous
camarilla around the throne. "Our dear land is in serious peril to-day,
therefore those who attempt to betray her should be held up as examples
to others."
"But you will not--you'll not let anyone know of my indiscretion!" she
begged.
"That certainly is my intention," was his hard reply. "This statement was
made to me by your lover, and it is but right that it should be
investigated, so that we may know the extent of the harm that you have
done."
The frantic, despairing woman, bursting into tears, threw herself at the
feet of the "miracle worker," begging hard for mercy.
"Think!" she cried. "Think what it will mean to my husband and myself. He
will probably be placed under arrest and lose his post, while I--I would
rather die than face such exposure."
"Ah! my dear Madame," said Rasputin tauntingly. "Life is very sweet, you
know."
"But you must not do this!" she shrieked loudly. "Promise me, Father,
that you will not! Promise me--do!"
Rasputin drew his hand roughly from her, for she had seized it as she
implored him to show her mercy.
"There may be some extenuating circumstances in your case--but I doubt
it," he said.
"There are!" she declared. "I grew to love the man. I was blind, mad,
infatuated--but now I hate him! Would that I could kill the man who
wrought such disaster in our land! Would that I could kill him with my
own hand!"
Rasputin drew a long breath. The wish she expressed had suddenly aroused
within his inventive brain a means of executing a sharp and bitter
revenge.
"Perhaps one day, ere long, you may be afforded opportunity," he said in
a changed voice. "If so, I will call you here again and explain what I
mean."
"Ah! Then I may hope for your pity and indulgence, eh?" she cried
quickly, but still in deep anxiety.
Yet Rasputin would not commit himself, for he was playing a very deep and
intricate game.
When the erring woman had gone the monk filled his glass with brandy,
some of that choice old cognac which the Empress sent him regularly, and
turning to me, said:
"Féodor, the man Doukhovski is wealthy, I understand. Protopopoff has
been making inquiry, and finds that he is owner of a large estate near
Ryazhsk, and that from an uncle quite recently he inherited nearly a
million roubles. He only retains his office because he does not regard it
as patriotic to retire while the war is in progress. What will he think
of his wife's betrayal when he knows of it?"
"But you will not inform him," I exclaimed.
"Not if Madame is reasonable. She is wealthy in her own right," replied
the monk. "If women err they must be compelled to pay the price," he went
on in a hard voice. "Felix Lachkarioff evidently deceived her very
cleverly. But there--he is one of the most expert agents that the
Königgrätzerstrasse possesses, and is so essentially a ladies' man."
After a pause Rasputin, lighting a cigarette, laughed lightly to himself,
and said:
"The report furnished to me yesterday shows that Madame was one of the
Plechkoffs of Lublin, and her balance at the Azov Bank is a very
considerable one. The price of my silence is the money she has there. And
I shall obtain it, Féodor--you will see," he added with confidence.
So ruthlessly did he treat the unfortunate woman that, by dint of threats
to place the original of that statement of Lachkarioff before the
Minister Protopopoff, he had before a week had passed every rouble she
possessed.
I was present on the night when she came to him to make the offer, the
negotiations having been opened and carried on by a man named Zouieff,
one of the several professional blackmailers whom Rasputin employed from
time to time under the guise of "lawyers." She was beside herself in
terror and despair, and carried with her a cheque-book.
The interview was a strikingly dramatic one. She penitent, submissive,
and full of hatred of the spy under whose influence she had fallen; the
monk cold, brutal, and unforgiving.
"Yes," he said at last, when she offered him a monetary consideration in
exchange for his silence. "But I am not content with a few paltry
roubles. I am collecting for my new monastery at Kertch, and what you
give will atone to God for your crime."
Within ten minutes she had written out a cheque for the whole of her
private fortune, while at the monk's dictation I wrote out a declaration
that his allegations were false, a document which he signed and handed to
her, together with Lachkarioff's original statement.
Even then Rasputin's cunning was not at its limit.
Lachkarioff's usefulness to Germany in Russia was at an end. He was in
Gothenburg, and being a close friend of an English journalist there, it
was feared lest he should allow himself to be interviewed, and reveal
something of the truth concerning the subterranean working of Germany in
Petrograd.
"The man's lips ought to be closed," Steinhauer had written to Rasputin
only a week before. "Can you suggest any way? While he lives he will be a
menace to us all. Filimonoff is safe in an asylum in Copenhagen, though I
believe he is perfectly sane. Only it is best that no risk should be
run."
Here were means ready to hand to close the mouth of Felix Lachkarioff,
for the woman whom he had betrayed was furiously vengeful.
"You said the other day that you would be ready to strike a blow at that
enemy of Russia who has so grossly misled you," Rasputin said to her in a
deep, earnest voice, as she sat in his room. "Would not such a course be
deeply patriotic? Why not, as expiation of your sin, travel to Gothenburg
and avenge those hundreds of poor people who were his victims at Obukhov?
I can give into your hand the means," he added, looking her straight in
the face.
"What means?" she asked.
He crossed to his writing-table, and, unlocking a drawer with a key upon
his chain, he took out a tiny bottle of extremely expensive Parisian
perfume, a pale-green liquid, which he handed to her.
"It looks like scent," he remarked, with a grin, "but it contains
something else--something so potent that a single drop introduced into
food or drink will produce death within an hour, the symptoms being
exactly those of heart disease. That is what deaths resulting from it are
always declared to be. So there is no risk. Meet him, be friendly, dine
with him for the sake of old days in Petrograd, and before you leave him
he will be doomed," added Rasputin, in a low whisper. "He surely deserves
it after deceiving you as he has done!"
"He certainly does," she declared fiercely, unable to overlook how he had
betrayed her. "And I will do it!" she added, taking up the little bottle.
"Russia shall be avenged."
"Excellent, my dear sister. You will indeed be rewarded," declared
Rasputin, crossing himself. "When you return to Petrograd, give me back
that precious little bottle of perfume, which I call the Perfume of
Death."
That the woman did not fail to carry out her promise was certain, for
within a fortnight we heard in a secret dispatch that Hardt brought us
from Berlin that the agent Lachkarioff had died suddenly from heart
disease after dining with a Russian lady friend at the Grand Hotel in
Stockholm.
Truly, the grip in which Germany held Russia and its Government was an
iron one, and death most assuredly came to those whom Berlin feared, or
who were in any way obnoxious to the German war party.
Ten days later a small packet was left at the house, addressed to the
monk. When I opened it I found the little Parisian perfume bottle.
One morning, a week later, I went with Rasputin to the Ministry of the
Interior, where we were ushered into the small, elegant private room of
"Satan-in-a-silk-hat" Protopopoff, who greeted us cordially. But as soon
as the door was closed, and he had invited us to be seated, he rose,
turned the key, and, facing us, gravely said:
"Gregory, I fear something serious is about to happen. Late last night I
received an urgent visit from the Under-director of Secret Police of
Moscow, who had come post-haste to tell me that there has been a secret
meeting between Miliukoff and the Grand Dukes Serge and Dmitri in that
city, and it has been decided that at the reopening of the Duma Miliukoff
will rise and publicly expose us."
"What?" shrieked the monk, starting. "Is that what is intended?" he asked
breathlessly.
"Yes. He apparently knows the authors of the outrage at Obukhov and our
association with them. It is believed that he actually holds documentary
evidence of the money which we passed through the Volga-Kama Bank, in
Tula."
"But this must be prevented at all hazards," declared Rasputin. "We
cannot allow him to denounce us. Not that anybody will believe him. But
it is not policy at this moment. Public opinion is highly inflamed."
"I agree. Of course, nobody will believe him. Yet he is dangerous, and if
he denounces us in the Duma it will come as a bombshell. I called upon
Anna Vyrubova early this morning, and she has gone to the palace," said
Protopopoff.
Rasputin remained silent, his hand stroking his ragged beard, a habit of
his when working out some scheme more devilish than others.
"Miliukoff will be supported by Purishkevitch, without a doubt," His
Excellency the Minister went on. "Both are equally dangerous."
The "saint" grunted and knit his brows, for he saw himself in a very
perilous position. In three days' time the Duma would re-open, and
Miliukoff would probably bring forth certain documentary evidence of the
treachery of Stürmer, Fredericks, Soukhomlinoff, Anna Vyrubova, and a
dozen others who formed the camarilla which was working for Russia's
downfall.
"The Duma must be prevented from opening," Rasputin declared at last.
"The Emperor must rescind the order and further postpone it."
"The Duma has been prohibited from meeting for over five months. It can,
I agree, wait still further. His Majesty must find some excuse, or----"
"I know what is passing in your mind, friend," interrupted the monk.
"Yes, I will urge Nicholas further to prohibit it, and thus give us time
to suppress our enemies."
"Action must be taken at once," said the Minister. "I had a telephone
message from the secret police in Moscow to say that Miliukoff left for
Petrograd at nine o'clock this morning. The Grand Dukes have gone south."
Two hours later, on our return to the Gorokhovaya, an Imperial courier
arrived in hot haste from Tsarskoe-Selo with a sealed note for the monk,
enclosed in two envelopes.
These I tore open, and, signing the outer envelope as assurance of safe
receipt, handed it to the courier, who left. Afterwards I read the
message to Rasputin, it being as follows:
"HOLY FATHER,--Anna has just told me of Miliukoff's intention in
the Duma. The Emperor must further adjourn its re-assembling. I
have telegraphed to him urging him to do this. If not, let us
adopt Noyo's suggestion to pay the agents J. and B. ten thousand
roubles to remove him. I would willingly pay a hundred thousand
roubles to close his mouth for ever. This must be done. Suggest
it to P. [Protopopoff]. Surely the same means could be used as
with T. and L. and the end be quite natural and peaceful! You
could supply the means as before. But I urge on you not to delay
a moment. All depends upon Miliukoff's removal. If he reveals to
the Duma what he knows, then everything must be lost. I kiss your
dear hands. With Olga I ask your blessing.--Your dutiful
daughter,
"A."
It was thus evident that the Empress knew of what Rasputin gleefully
called "The Perfume of Death." Ah! in how many cases, I wonder, was it
used by the mock "saint" to stifle the truth and to sweep his enemies of
both sexes from his path? Such a letter as this I have here given seems
utterly incredible in this twentieth century, yet those who knew
underground Russia immediately before the downfall of the Romanoffs will
express no surprise.
At once we went to Tsarskoe-Selo with all haste, and Rasputin had a long
conference in private with the Empress and Anna, the outcome of which was
that Alexandra Feodorovna dispatched an urgent message in cipher to the
Tsar, who was still absent at South-West Headquarters.
We remained at the palace all that day. At six o'clock Anna Vyrubova
entered the room, where I sat writing some letters, and inquired for the
monk.
"He was here a quarter of an hour ago," I replied.
"Then find him at once and give him this. It is most urgent," said the
high-priestess of the cult of the "sister-disciples," handing me a sealed
envelope.
Ten minutes later I found Rasputin walking alone on the terrace,
impatient and thoughtful, and opened the envelope. Within was a message
in Their Majesties' private cipher, which had been deciphered by the
Empress's own hand, and which read:
"Tell our dear Father [Rasputin] that to postpone the Duma would,
I fear, create an unfavourable impression, and I judge
impossible. Protopopoff has asked my authority to arrest
Miliukoff upon some technical charge, but I do not consider such
a course good policy. I agree that to-day's situation is grave,
and agree also that at the last moment some means should be taken
to prevent him from speaking.
"NIKKI."
The monk at once flew to the Empress's side, where Stürmer was being
received in audience. Again the situation was eagerly discussed. That
night, when we returned to Petrograd, although it was nearly midnight,
Protopopoff was summoned by telephone, and when the pair met I learnt
what had been arranged at the Palace.
The Empress's wishes were to be carried out. The patriot Miliukoff was to
be "removed."