Chapter XIII

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      On arriving at this hotel Volenski found a telegram from Baron de Hermansthal, asking for his immediate presence at the detective office. Wishing to avoid anything that might in any way seem suspicious, he went at once, although he had ceased to care now what the police were doing in the matter; whatever they did, could not affect the candlesticks, as he would be in London long before the promptest investigations could possibly lead to the discovery of Grünebaum's agent abroad. Baron de Hermansthal had, however, quite a great deal of news for him; the night before, the woman Grete Ottlinger had been arrested outside the "Kaiser Franz" for being drunk and disorderly, and had been induced this morning, by the examining magistrate, to reveal the name of Moses Grünebaum, a well-known dealer on the Kolowrátring, as the receiver of all the stolen property she and her accomplices brought into the city. The man would probably be arrested that afternoon.

      "I thought you would be relieved to hear this," the amiable baron added; "if you like to call at my office later in the day, I might give you a special permission to view the suspected articles in Grünebaum's shop, and if his Eminence's candlesticks are among them, and the police satisfied as to your claim to them, they might be handed over to you in the course of a few days."

      Oh! all this bureaucracy and red-tapism, how thankful Volenski was that he was independent of it! A few days indeed! time to allow Madame Demidoff, who naturally would be communicated with at the same time as himself, to claim the candlesticks as part of her stolen property. In a few days Volenski hoped to be in Petersburg, back from London, the fatal papers handed over to Taranïew, and then his own connection severed from the brotherhood. To that he was fully resolved. The last few days had taught him a lesson that would take a lifetime to forget.

      "I am exceedingly obliged to your Excellency," he remarked somewhat drily, "for the trouble you have taken in this business; as I am obliged to quit town for a few days, I will leave the matter now entirely in your hands."

      "I don't think you can do better," said Baron de Hermansthal. "It is now merely a question of time, for the property is in the charge of the police, no doubt, along with the other goods in Grünebaum's shop, and I will give strict orders that no candlestick is to be tampered with, till you or Madame Demidoff have identified those belonging to his Eminence."

      "I suppose," said Iván tentatively, "that Madame Demidoff has been communicated with?"

      He was anxious to hear what her movements had been so far, how near she had been on his track.

      "I am expecting Madame Demidoff this morning, as I sent her an official communication, asking her to favour me with a call. She came back to Vienna yesterday, having exhausted all inquiries round about Oderberg, and resolved to let us do what we could on her behalf."

      "No doubt, then, she will identify his Eminence's candlesticks," said Iván, much relieved to find that Madame Demidoff could not possibly have seen Grünebaum privately in the short interval that elapsed between his own interview with the Jew and the subsequent police raid.

      He took his hat and bowed politely to the amiable baron, as he once more thanked him for his kindness, then took a hasty leave, eager as he was to get away.

      The quest after the fateful papers had become an all-absorbing one. Iván Volenski seemed unable to think of anything while he was on this mad chase after the compromising documents. He seemed almost to have forgotten the very existence of the prisoner in the Heumarkt, the comrades at Petersburg, who had not yet heard the news, and those at home, who would be wondering when and how he had started on his important mission, and how soon their manifesto would be placed in the Tsar's hands, and Dunajewski and the other brethren safely across the frontier; little knowing that the entire fabric, on which the Socialist brotherhood rested, was in danger of crumbling at any moment.

      And delay … delay was so dangerous! What had Count Lavrovski done? Were the Russian detectives on the track of the conspiracy? Would they succeed in discovering the captive before any important good had resulted from the daring abduction? In any case nothing but disaster to the cause and its followers could ensue while the papers that held all their secrets were in strange hands. To get those back was life and death to one and all, and with that all-absorbing, fixed idea in his mind Volenski, having packed up a few necessaries, was ready to start for London by the afternoon express.

      He had plenty of time during the forty hours' journey to England to meditate on the folly of all this plotting and planning, that inevitably led all those who indulged in it into perils of their lives and liberty. He himself, with ample means and a brilliant career before him–what a fool he had been to risk all his prospects for the sake of Utopian ideas, that would take perhaps centuries to develop, but surely could not be advanced by hot-headed coups such as Dunajewski, Taranïew, and he himself planned. Would a handful of young enthusiasts revolutionise Russia, when the moujiks, for whose benefit they were supposed to plot and plan, were the very last to lend them a helping hand?

      Ay! the reform of that great country would come some day; soon, perhaps, as it came in France, violently–sweeping like a tornado a throne, a dynasty before it–but that would be when the people's hour had come, when the nation themselves knew what they were craving for, when liberty had ceased to be a word in the mouth of a few, and had become a desire in the hearts of all. Time, then, for all Russians that had pride in manhood to join in the cause of freedom and attack the throne if it stood in the way, sweep away the powers that be, if they do not tend to the desire of the people. But let it be the people that have that desire; let it be a spark in their heart, placed there by a divine hand, and not kindled slowly and forcibly by the breath of a few fanatics.

      Amidst these conflicting thoughts Volenski had reached the English capital. He left his bag at Charing Cross Terminus Hotel, meaning to start back for Vienna that same evening, and, as soon as he had swallowed a light breakfast, he took a hansom and drove to No. 14, Great Portland Street.

      This time he was sure of his ground; there was no occasion to exercise any diplomatic skill. He walked straight into the shop, asked to see Mr. Davies, and said in quiet, business-like tones, in fairly good English:

      "I noticed in your shop, a day or two ago, a pair of antique china and gold candlesticks that took my fancy at the moment. I hadn't the time to look at them then, but would be very glad if you will show them to me. They were of gold, with very pretty vieux Vienne Cupids with bows and arrows. Do you recollect the ones I mean?"

      "Perfectly, sir, perfectly. I regret, however, that I cannot oblige you, as I sold those same candlesticks to one of my customers late yesterday afternoon. He is a great collector of curios of all kinds, and, like yourself, sir, was greatly taken with the beauty of the vieux Vienne Cupids. But I have some very beautiful candlesticks, both antique and modern, that you might care to look at –– "

      "No," said Volenski, whose excited brain refused to take in the Jew's assertion, "I want those particular ones–I must have them–no matter what I pay for them. Here," he added, as he noticed that Davies was beginning to eye him suspiciously, "is my introduction from your Viennese partner," and he handed him Grünebaum's card; "you will see by that, that I am a friend, and if you will deal fairly with me, no harm shall come to you, but if you refuse to help me to regain my property--for those candlesticks are mine–I will find means of setting the police on your track as a receiver of stolen goods. Now bring me those candlesticks at once, and name your price for them. I am in a hurry, as I want to catch a train."

      Isaac Davies took his accomplice's card, and turning it about between his fingers, still eyed Volenski with a remnant of suspicion.

      "I tell you no harm shall come to you," said Iván impatiently. "I am even willing to pay