"If it were not that I feared lest misfortune might befall you during my
absence, Highness, I would at once follow and overtake her."
"Oh, but the long journey to Siberia! Why, it would take you at least
six months! That is quite impossible."
"Not impossible, Highness," I responded very gravely. "I am prepared to
undertake the journey for your sake--and hers--for the sake of the
Emperor."
"Ah! I know, Uncle Colin, how good you always are to me, but I couldn't
ask you to undertake a winter journey such as that, in search of poor
Marya."
"If I go, will you, on your part, promise me solemnly not to go out on
these night escapades? Indeed, it is not judicious of you to walk out
at all, unless one or other of the police-agents is in close attendance
upon you. One never knows, in these present circumstances, what may
happen," I said. "And as soon as Markoff knows that I have set out for
Siberia, he will guess the reason, and endeavour to bring disaster upon
both of us, as well as upon the exile herself."
For some minutes she did not reply. Then she said: "You must not go.
It is too dangerous for you--far too dangerous. I will not allow it."
"If you refuse to reveal Marya's secret, then I shall go," was my quiet
response. "I shall ask the Emperor to send you Hartwig, to be near you.
He will watch over your safety until my return."
"Ah! his alertness is simply marvellous," she declared. "Did you read
in the London papers last week how cleverly he ran to earth the three
men who robbed the Volga Kama Bank in Moscow of a quarter of a million
roubles?"
"Yes. I read the account of it. He was twice shot at by the men before
they were arrested. But he seems always to lead a charmed life. While
he is at your side, I shall certainly entertain no fear."
"Then you have really decided to go?" she said, looking at me with brows
slightly knit. "I cannot tell--I cannot--what I read in those letters
after giving my word of honour to Marya."
"I have decided," I said briefly.
"I do not like the thought of your going. Something dreadful may happen
to you."
"I shall be wary--never fear," I assured her with a laugh. "I intend to
secure the release of Madame and Luba--to set right an unjust and
outrageous wrong. I admire your firm devotion to your friend, but I
will bring back to you, I hope, her written permission to speak and
reveal the truth."
Five minutes later I rose, and we descended to the hall, where patient
Dmitri was idling over his French newspaper.
Then the weather being fine again, we passed out together into the
autumn sunshine of the Lawns, at that hour of the morning agog with
well-dressed promenaders and hundreds of pet dogs. And a few moments
later we came face to face with Richard Drury, to whom she introduced me
as "Mr Colin Trewinnard, my uncle, Mr Drury." We bowed mutually, and
then all three of us strolled on together, though he seemed a little ill
at ease in my presence.
I had made a firm resolution. In order to learn the secret of those
letters and to place Her Highness, who so honourably refused to break
her word, in a position to expose the unscrupulous official who was the
real Oppressor of Russia, I intended to set out on that long journey in
search of the exile, now, alas! unknown by name, but only by number.
Drury struck me as a rather good fellow, and no doubt a gentleman. We
halted together, and, when near the pier, he raised his hat and left us.
Before leaving Brighton I had yet much to do. I was not altogether
satisfied concerning the young man, my object being to try and learn for
myself something more tangible regarding him.
"Well," she asked, when he had gone, "what is your verdict, Uncle
Colin?"
"Favourable," I replied, whereat she smiled in gratification.
An hour later I succeeded in obtaining a short confidential chat with
the hall-porter of the Royal York Hotel, whom I found quite ready to
assist me. As I had suspected, Dmitri had failed and formed utterly
wrong conclusions, because of his lack of fluent English. It is always
extremely difficult for a foreigner to obtain confidential information
in England.
The hall-porter, however, told me that their visitor was well-known to
them, and had frequently stayed there for several months at a time. He
had, he believed, formerly lived with his invalid mother at Eastbourne.
But the lady had died, and he had then gone to live in bachelor chambers
in London. From the bureau of the hotel he obtained the address,
scribbled on a bit of paper--an address in Albemarle Street, Piccadilly,
to which letters were sometimes re-directed.
"And he has a friend--a doctor--hasn't he?" I asked the man.
"Oh, yes, sir. You mean Doctor Ingram. He was down here with him the
other day."
Having obtained all the information I could, I telegraphed to Hartwig at
the Savoy Hotel, asking him to make inquiries at Albemarle Street and
then to come to Brighton immediately, for I dared not leave until I
could place my little madcap charge in safe hands. I knew not into what
mischief she might get so soon as my back was turned.
That afternoon we strolled together across the Lawns, and presently sat
down to listen to the military band.
She looked extremely neat in her dead-black gown, which, by its cut and
material, bore the unmistakable _cachet_ of the Rue de la Paix, and as
we passed up and down I saw many a head turned in her direction in
admiration of her remarkable beauty. Little did that crowd of seaside
idlers dream that this extremely pretty girl in black who was so much of
a mystery to everybody was a member of the great Imperial House of
Russia. She was believed to be Miss Gottorp, whose father had been
German and her mother English, both of whom were recently dead.
Seeing her so often walking with me, everyone, of course, put me down as
the lucky man to whom she was engaged to be married, and I have little
doubt that many a young man envied me. How strange is the world!
When in a tantalising mood she often referred to that popular belief,
and that afternoon, while we rested upon two of the green chairs set
apart from the others on the Lawn, she said:
"I'm quite sure that everybody in Hove is convinced that I am to be Mrs
Trewinnard;" and then, referring to her English maid, she added: "Davey
has heard it half a dozen times already."