Colonel Paul Polivanoff, Marshal of the Imperial Court, gorgeous in his
pale-blue and gold uniform of the Nijni-Novgorod Dragoons, with many
decorations, tapped at the white-enamelled steel door of His Majesty's
private cabinet in the Palace of Tzarskoie-Selo, and then entered,
announcing in French:
"Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Natalia and M'sieur Colin
Trewinnard."
Nine days had passed since that parting of the lovers at Lochearnhead,
and now, as we stood upon the threshold of the bomb-proof chamber, I
knew that our visit there in company was to be a momentous event in the
history of modern Russia.
As we entered, the Emperor, who had been busy with the pile of State
documents upon his table, rose, settled the hang of his sword--for he
was in a dark green military uniform, with the double-headed eagle of
Saint Andrew in diamonds at his throat--and turned to meet us.
Towards me His Majesty extended a cordial welcome, but I could plainly
detect that his niece's presence caused him displeasure.
"So you are back again in Russia--eh, Tattie?" he snapped in French,
speaking in that language instead of Russian because of my presence.
"It seems that during your absence you have been guilty of some very
grave indiscretions and more than one scandalous escapade--eh?"
"I am here to explain to Your Majesty," the girl said quite calmly, and
looking very pale and sweet in her half-mourning.
"Trewinnard has furnished me with reports," he said hastily, motioning
her to a chair. "What you have to say, please say quickly, as I have
much to do and am leaving for Moscow to-night. Be seated."
"I am here for two reasons," she said, seating herself opposite to where
he had sunk back into his big padded writing-chair, "to explain what you
are pleased to term my conduct, and also to place your Majesty in
possession of certain facts which have been very carefully hidden from
you."
"Another plot--eh?" he snapped. "There are plots everywhere just now."
"A plot--yes--but not a revolutionary one," was her answer.
"Leave such things to Markoff or to Hartwig. They are not women's
business," he cried impatiently. "Rather explain your conduct in
England. From what I hear, you have so far forgotten what is due to
your rank and station as to fall in love with some commoner! Markoff
made a long report about it the other day. I have it somewhere," and he
glanced back upon his littered table, whereon lay piled the affairs of a
great and powerful Empire.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and I saw that her white-gloved hand
twitched nervously. We had travelled together from Petersburg, and upon
the journey she had been silent and thoughtful, bracing herself up for
an ordeal.
"I care not a jot for any report of General Markoff's," she replied
boldly. "Indeed, it was mainly to speak of him that I have asked for
audience to-day."
"To tell me something against him, I suppose, just because he has
discovered your escapades in England--because he has dared to tell me
the truth--eh, Tattie?" he said, with a dry laugh. "So like a woman!"
"If he has told you the truth about me, then it is the first time he has
ever told Your Majesty the truth," she said, looking straight at the
Emperor.
The Sovereign glanced first at her with quick surprise and then at
myself.
"Her Imperial Highness has something to report to Your Majesty,
something of a very grave and important nature," I ventured to remark.
"Eh? Eh?" asked the big bearded man, in his quick, impetuous way.
"Something grave--eh? Well, Tattie, what is it?"
The girl, pale and agitated, held her breath for a few moments. Then
she said:
"I know, uncle, that you consider me a giddy, incorrigible flirt.
Perhaps I am. But, nevertheless, I am in possession of a secret--a
secret which, as it affects the welfare of the nation and of the
dynasty, it is, I consider, my duty to reveal to you."
"Ah! Revolutionists again!"
"I beg of you to listen, uncle," she urged. "I have several more
serious matters to place before you."
"Very well," he replied, smiling as though humouring her. "I am
listening. Only pray be brief, won't you?"
"You will recollect the attempt planned to be made in the Nevski on the
early morning of our arrival from the Crimea, and in connection with
that plot a lady, a friend of mine and of Mr Trewinnard's, named Madame
de Rosen, and her daughter Luba were arrested and sent by administrative
process to Siberia?"
"Certainly. Trewinnard went recently on a quixotic mission to the
distressed ladies," he laughed. "But why, my dear child, refer to them
further? They were conspirators, and I really have no interest in their
welfare. The elder woman is, I understand, dead."
"Yes," the Grand Duchess cried fiercely; "killed by exposure, at the
orders of General Serge Markoff."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "then you have come here to denounce poor Markoff as
an assassin--eh? This is really most interesting."
"What I have to relate to Your Majesty will, I believe, be found of
considerable interest," she said, now quite calm and determined. "True,
I have charged Serge Markoff with the illegal arrest and the subsequent
death of an innocent woman. It is for me now to prove it."
"Certainly," said His Imperial Majesty, settling himself in his big
chair, and placing the tips of his strong white fingers together in an
attitude of listening.
"Then I wish to reveal to you a few facts concerning this man who wields
such wide and autocratic power in our Russia--this man who is the real
oppressor of our nation, and who is so cleverly misleading and
terrorising its ruler."
"Tattie! What are you saying?"
"You will learn when I have finished," she said. "I am only a girl, I
admit, but I know the truth--the scandalous truth--how you, the Emperor,
are daily deceived and made a catspaw by your clever and unscrupulous
Chief of Secret Police."
"Speak. I am all attention," he said, his brows darkening.
"I have referred to poor Marya de Rosen," said the girl, leaning her
elbow upon the arm of the chair and looking straight into her uncle's
face. "If the truth be told, Marya and Serge Markoff had been
acquainted for a very long time. Two years after the death of her
husband, Felix de Rosen, the wealthy banker of Odessa and Warsaw, Serge
Markoff, in order to obtain her money, married her."
"Married her!" echoed the Emperor in a loud voice. "Can you prove
this?"
"Yes. Three years ago, when I was living with my father in Paris, I
went alone one morning to the Russian Church in the Rue Daru, where, to
my utter amazement, I found a quiet marriage-service in progress. The
contracting parties were none other than General Markoff and the widow,
Madame de Rosen. Beyond the priest and the sacristan, I was the only
person in possession of the truth. They both returned to Petersburg
next day, but agreed to keep their marriage secret, as the General was
cunning enough to know that marriage would probably interfere with his
advancement and probably cause Your Majesty displeasure."
"I had no idea of it!" he remarked, much surprised. "Marya de Rosen--or
Madame Markoff, as she really was--frequently went to her husband's
house, but always clandestinely and unknown to Luba, who had no
suspicion of the truth," the girl went on. "According to the story told
to me by Marya herself, a strange incident occurred at the General's
house one evening. She had called there and been admitted, by the side
entrance, by a confidential servant, and was awaiting the return of the
General, who was having audience at the Winter Palace. While sitting
alone, a young woman of the middle-class--probably an art-student--was
ushered into the room by another servant, who believed Marya was
awaiting formal audience of His Excellency. The girl was highly excited
and hysterical, and finding Marya alone, at once broke out in terrible
invective against the General. Marya naturally took Markoff's part,
whereupon the girl began to make all sorts of charges of conspiracy, and
even murder, against him--charges which Marya declared to the girl's
face were lies.
"Suddenly, however, the girl plunged her hand deep into the pocket of
her skirt and produced three letters, which, with a mocking laugh, she
urged Marya to read and then to judge His Excellency accordingly.
Meanwhile, the manservant, having heard the girl's voice raised
excitedly, entered and promptly ejected her, leaving the letters in
Marya's hands. She opened them. They were all in Serge Markoff's own
handwriting, and were addressed to a certain man named Danilo
Danilovitch, once a shoemaker at Kazan, and now, in secret, the leader
of the Revolutionary Party.
"From the first of these Marya saw that it was quite plain that the
General--the man in whom Your Majesty places such implicit faith--had
actually bribed the man with five thousand roubles and a promise of
police protection to assassinate Your Majesty's brother, the Grand Duke
Peter Michailovitch, from whom he feared exposure, as he had been shrewd
enough to discover his double-dealing and the peculation of the public
funds of which Markoff had been guilty while holding the office of
Governor of Kazan. Six days after that letter," Her Highness added in a
hard, clear voice, "my poor Uncle Peter was shot dead by an unknown hand
while emerging from the Opera House in Warsaw."
"Ah! I remember!" exclaimed His Majesty hoarsely, for the Grand Duke
Peter was his favourite brother, and his assassination had caused him
the most profound grief.
"Of the other two letters--all of them having been in my possession,"
Her Highness went on, "one was a brief note, appointing a meeting for
the following evening at a house near the Peterhof Station, in
Petersburg, while the third contained a most amazing confession. In the
course of it General Markoff wrote words to the following effect: `You
and your chicken-hearted friends are utterly useless to me. I was
present and watched you. When he entered the theatre you and your
wretched friends were afraid--you failed me! You call yourself
Revolutionists--you, all of you, are without the courage of a mouse! I
thought better of you. When you failed so ignominiously, I waited--
waited until he came out. Where you failed, I was fortunately
successful. He fell at the first shot. Arrests were, of course,
necessary. Some of your cowardly friends deserve all the punishment
they will get. Forty-six have been arrested to-day. Meet me to-morrow
at eight p.m. at the usual rendezvous. You shall have the money all the
same, though you certainly do not deserve it. Destroy this.'"
"Where is that letter?" demanded His Majesty quickly.
"It has unfortunately been destroyed--destroyed by its writer. Marya
was aghast at these revelations of her husband's treachery and
double-dealing, for while Chief of Secret Police and Your Majesty's most
trusted adviser he was actually aiding and abetting the Revolutionists!
She placed the letters which had so opportunely come into her possession
into her pocket, and said nothing to Markoff when he returned. But from
that moment she distrusted him, and saw how ingenious and cunning were
his dealings with both yourself and with the leader of the
Revolutionists. He, assisted by his catspaw, Danilo Danilovitch, formed
desperate plots for the mere purpose of making whole sale arrests, and
thus showing you how active and astute he was. Danilo Danilovitch--who,
as `The One,' the leader whose actual identity is unknown by those poor
deluded wretches who believe they can effect a change in Russia by means
of bombs--is as cunning and crafty as his master. It was he who threw
the bomb at our carriage and who killed my poor dear father. He--"
"How can you prove that?" demanded the Emperor quickly.
"I myself saw him throw the bomb," I said, interrupting. "The outrage
was committed at Markoff's orders."
"Impossible! Why do you allege this, Trewinnard? What motive could
Markoff have in killing the Grand Duke Nicholas?"
"The same that he had in ordering the arrest and banishment of his own
wife and her daughter," was my reply. "Her Highness will make further
explanation."
"The motive was simply this," went on the girl, still speaking with
great calmness and determination. "A few days before I left with Your
Majesty on the tour of the Empire, I called upon Marya de Rosen to wish
her good-bye. On that occasion she gave me the three letters in
question--which had apparently been stolen from Danilovitch by the girl
who had handed them to her. Marya told me that she feared lest her
husband, when he knew they were in her possession, might order a
domiciliary visit for the purpose of securing possession of them.
Therefore she begged me, after she had shown me the contents and bound
me to strictest silence, to conceal them. This I did.
"While we were absent in the south nothing transpired, but Danilovitch
had arranged an attempt in the Nevski on the morning of our return to
Petersburg. The plot was discovered at the eleventh hour, as usual and
among those arrested was Madame de Rosen and Luba. Why? Because Your
Majesty's favourite, Serge Markoff, having discovered that the
incriminating letters had been handed to his wife, knew that she, and
probably Luba, were aware of his secret. He feared that the evidence of
his crime must have passed into other hands, and dreading lest his wife
should betray him, he ordered her arrest as a dangerous political.
After her arrest he saw her, and, hoping for her release, she explained
how she had handed the letters to me for safe-keeping, and confessed
that I was aware of the shameful truth. She was not, however, released,
but sent to her grave. For that same reason Markoff ordered his agent
Danilovitch to throw the bomb at the carriage in which I was riding with
my poor father and Mr Trewinnard."
"But I really cannot give credence to all this!" exclaimed the Emperor,
who had risen again and was standing near the window which looked out
upon the courtyard of the palace, whence came the sound of soldiers
drilling and distant bugle-calls.
"Presently Your Majesty shall be given a complete proof," his niece
responded. "Danilovitch has confessed. At Markoff's orders--which he
was compelled to carry out, fearing that if he refused the all-powerful
Chief of Secret Police would betray him to his comrades as a spy--he, at
imminent risk of being shot by the sentries, visited our palace on four
occasions, and succeeded at last, after long searches, in discovering
the letters where I had hidden them for safety in my old nursery, and,
securing them, he handed them back to his master."
"Then this Danilovitch is a Revolutionist paid by Markoff to perform his
dirty work--eh?" asked the Emperor angrily.
"He is paid, and paid well, to organise conspiracies against Your
Majesty's person," I interrupted. "The majority of the plots of the
past three years have been suggested by Markoff himself, and arranged by
Danilovitch, who finds it very easy to beguile numbers of his poor
deluded comrades into believing that the revolution will bring about
freedom in Russia. A list of these he furnishes to Markoff before each
attempt is discovered, hence the astute Chief of Secret Police is always
able to put his hand upon the conspirators and to furnish a satisfactory
report to Your Majesty, for which he receives commendation."
"Apparently a unique arrangement," remarked the sovereign reflectively.
"In order to close the lips of Madame de Rosen, he contrived that she
should receive such brutal and inhuman treatment that she died of the
effects of cold, hardship and exposure," I went on. "One of Markoff's
agents made a desperate attempt upon myself while in Siberia, fearing
that Her Highness had revealed the truth to me, and well knowing that I
was aware of Danilovitch's true _metier_. The attempt fortunately
failed, as did another recently formed by Danilovitch in London at
Markoff's orders. Therefore--"
"But this Danilovitch!" interrupted His Majesty, turning to me. "Has he
actually confessed to you?"
"He has, Sire," I replied. "The sole reason of my journey to Yakutsk
was in order to see Marya de Rosen on Her Highness's behalf and obtain
permission for her to speak and reveal to Your Majesty all that the
Grand Duchess has now told you. Her Highness had promised strictest
secrecy to her friend, but now that the lady is dead I have at last
induced her to speak in the personal-interests of Your Majesty, as well
as in the interests of the whole nation."
"Yes, yes, I quite understand," said His Majesty very gravely.
"By returning here, by abandoning my _incognita_, I--I have been
compelled to sacrifice my love," declared the girl in a low, faltering
voice, her cheeks blanched, her mouth drawn hard, and her fine eyes
filled with tears.
"Ah! Tattie! If what you have revealed to me be true, then the reason
of Markoff's unsatisfactory reports concerning, you is quite apparent,"
His Majesty said, slowly folding his arms as he stood in thought, a fine
commanding figure with the jewelled double eagle at his throat flashing
with a thousand fires.
"And so, Trewinnard," he added, turning to me, "all this is the reason
why, more than once, you have given me those mysterious hints which have
set me pondering."
"Yes, Sire," I replied. "You have been blinded by these clever
adventurers surrounding you--that circle which, headed by Serge Markoff,
is always so careful to prevent you from learning the truth. The
intrigue they practise is most ingenious and far-reaching, ever securing
their own advancement with fat emoluments at the expense of the
oppressed nation. Their basic principle is to terrorise you--to keep
the bogy of revolution constantly before Your Majesty, to discover
plots, and by administrative process to send hundreds, nay thousands,
into exile in those far-off Arctic wastes, or fill the prisons with
suspects, more than two-thirds of whom are innocent, loyal and
law-abiding citizens."
He turned suddenly and, pale with anger, struck his fist upon his table.
"There shall be no more exile by administrative process!" he cried, and
seating himself, he drew a sheet of official paper before him, and for a
few moments his quill squeaked rapidly over the paper.
Thus he wrote the ukase abolishing exile by administrative process--that
law which the camarilla had so abused--and signed it with a flourish of
his pen.
The first reform in Russia--a reform which meant the yearly saving of
thousands of innocent lives, the preservation of the sanctity of every
home throughout the great Empire, and which guaranteed to everyone in
future, suspect or known criminal or Revolutionist, a fair and open
trial--had been achieved.
Surely the little Grand Duchess, the madcap of the Romanoffs, had not
sacrificed her great love in vain, even though while that Imperial ukase
was being written she sat with bitter tears rolling slowly down her
white cheeks.