British Mysteries Omnibus - The Emma Orczy Edition (65+ Titles in One Edition). Emma Orczy
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which after a few moments was thrown open, while an anxious voice asked:
"Is that you, Baloukine?"
"Yes," replied the domino, "with Iván and Serge; let us in."
The room which they had now entered, furnished with an attempt at comfort, half as an office, and half as a smoking lounge, was filled with some twelve or fourteen men, of all ages, and apparently, judging from their clothes, of very mixed social positions; while four or five of them, collarless, and probably shirtless, wore working jackets and clumsy boots, some wore beautifully cut dress-clothes and spotless linen, with a flower in the button-hole, and one elderly man, with a pointed grey beard, and handsome, aristocratic features, wore two or three decorations fastened to his coat.
All, however, whether peer or peasant, seemed on the best of terms together, and smoking pipes and cigarettes of peace and fraternity.
"What news?" asked half a dozen voices, as the new arrivals divested themselves of their grey dominoes, and shook hands with those sitting around.
"The best."
"Where is he?" asked a voice.
"In Mirkovitch's fiaker with Maria Stefanowna."
"And presently?"
"Mirkovitch's guest at No 21, Heumarkt."
The questions and answers followed each other in rapid succession; the tension of suspense had evidently been great, the relief at the news most obviously welcome, for a sigh of satisfaction seemed to rise in unison from a dozen heaving, oppressed chests.
"And Mirkovitch?" asked one of the older men.
"He will be here anon."
"As soon as he is safe under lock and key."
"Then he is in our power?"
"Absolutely."
"Did Lavrovski attempt to follow him?
"Not till it was too late, and the fiaker out of sight. He fell into the trap, without a shadow of suspicion."
There was a pause now; evidently much had to be thought of and serious points considered, for during the next ten minutes not a sound disturbed the stillness of the room, save the crackling of burning logs in the wide chimney, and one or two whispered questions and rapidly given answers.
Then a heavy tread was heard in the passage outside, the same rhythmical knock on the door, while a gruff voice said:
"Mirkovitch."
A Herculean man, some six foot three in height, with long grey hair thrown back from a massive forehead, and piecing grey eyes, half-hidden under a pair of bushy eyebrows, now joined the group of smokers, greeting them all but with two words:
"All safe."
"Prisoner?"
"Safely in my house; no windows, only a skylight. No chance of discovery, and less of escape."
"And Maria Stefenowna?"
"Did her part splendidly; he suspected nothing till he heard the door locked behind him."
"Did he speak?"
"Only to call himself a fool, which remark was obvious."
"He asked no questions?"
"None."
"The deaf-mute valet was there to receive him?"
"Yes, and waited on him, while he took some of the supper we has prepared for him."
"What about Lavrovski?" asked a voice from the further end of the room.
"He went back to his box, and is waiting there now, I should imagine."
"In the meanwhile, Mirkovitch, you have promised us the best treatment for our prisoner."
"Yes," said Mirkovitch grimly. "I hate him, but I will treat him well. The deaf-mute is a skilled valet, the rooms are comfortable, the bad is luxurious, the food will be choice and plentiful. Very different," he added sullenly, "from what Denajewski and the others are enduring at this moment."
"They are practically free now," said a young voice enthusiastically; "we can demand their liberty; let them refuse it, if they dare."
"Yes," added Mirkovitch with a smile, "it would go hard with Nicholas Alexandrovitch now if they refused to let our comrades go."
"To business, friends, there is no time for talk," said the authoritative voice of the elderly man who wore decoration.
The cigarettes and pipes were with one accord put aside, and all chairs turned towards to the table placed in the centre of the room, on which stood a tempered with a green shade, and scattered all about, loose bundles of paper, covered with writings and signatures.
"There are many points to decide," resumed he, who appeared to be a leader amongst them; "the deed, accomplished to-night, thanks to those heads who planned, and those arms who executed it, great as it is, has still a greater object in view. This, we over here cannot attain; the turn of Taranïew and the brothers in Petersburg has now come, to do their share of the work."
The chairman paused, all heads nodded in acquiescence, then he resumed:
"We have been obliged to act very hurriedly and on our own initiative. Taranïew and the others, so far, know absolutely nothing."
"They must hear of it at once," said one voice.
"And cease any plotting of their own," assented another.
"It could only now lead to certain disaster," agreed the chairman, "if they were in any sort of way to draw the attention of the Third Section on themselves."
"Or us!" grimly added Mirkovitch.
"Obviously, therefore, our messenger's duty to them will be twofold," said the president. "The bringing of great news, as it now stands, and our instructions as to the next course they must follow to attain the noble object we all have in view."
"Yes, the letter to Alexander III," said a young voice eagerly.
This was the important point; more eagerness in the listeners, more enthusiasm among the younger men was, if possible, discernible.
"I have here," said the president, taking a document from the table, "with the help of the committee, embodied our idea as to how that letter should be framed."
"It will be an appetising breakfast relish for the autocrat of all the Russians when he finds it, as he does all our written warnings, underneath his cup of morning coffee," sneered Mirkovitch, who had been sitting all this while smoking grimly, and muttering at intervals short sentences between his teeth, which boded no good to the prisoner he had under his charge.
"Our letter," said the president, "this time will contain the information that the Tsarevitch is, at the present moment, in the hands of some persons unknown, and that those persons will continue to hold him a hostage till certain conditions are complied with."
"Those conditions being?" queried one of the bystanders.
"Complete pardon for Dunajewski, and all those who are in prison with him in connection with that lat plot, together with a free pass out of the country."
"Nicholas Alexandrovitch to be set free the day they have crossed the frontier," added a member of the committee.
"If in answer to this he simply sets the Third Section on our track?" queried a voice diffidently.
"The message shall also contain a warning," said Mirkovitch grimly.
"That in case the police are mixed up in the matter –– ?"
"They would not even find a dead body."
A pause followed this ominous speech. This was the dark side of this daring plot: the possible murder of a helpless prisoner. Yet they all knew it might become inevitable; the hostage's life might have to be weighed against theirs in case of discovery, and, instead of barter, there might be need