"I do. If you value your life, then I would urge you at once to get rid
of the packet which poor Madame de Rosen entrusted to you."
"But I cannot place it before the Emperor just at present," the girl
exclaimed. "I promised secrecy to Marya de Rosen."
"Then you knew something of the subject to which those letters refer--
eh?"
"I know something of it."
"Why not pass them on to me? They will be quite secure here in the
Embassy safe. Russian spies dire not enter here--upon this bit of
British soil."
"A good idea," she said quickly. "I will. I'll go home and bring them
back to you."
And in a few minutes she rose and with a merry laugh left me to descend
to her carriage, which was waiting out upon the quay.
I stood looking out of the window as she drove away. I was thinking--
thinking seriously over the Emperor's strange apprehension.
Two visitors followed her, the French naval attache, and afterwards old
Madame Neilidoff, the Society leader of Moscow, who called to
congratulate me upon my escape, and to invite me to spend my
convalescence at her country estate at Sukova. With the stout, ugly old
lady, who spake French with a dreadfully nasal intonation and possessed
a distinct moustache, I chatted for nearly an hour, as we sipped our tea
with lemon, when almost as soon as she had taken her departure the door
was flung open unceremoniously and the Grand Duchess Natalia burst in,
her beautiful face blanched to the lips.
"Uncle Colin! Something horrible has happened; Those letters have
gone!" she gasped in a hoarse whisper, staring at me.
"Gone!" I echoed, starting to my feet in dismay.
"Yes. _They've been stolen--stolen_!"