CHAPTER X

In the private room of Count Golitzine, the Czar’s private secretary, sat two men—the Count himself and Lord Ickfold, the British Ambassador. The apartment was in a secluded wing of the Winter Palace.

The Ambassador was reading aloud from the Baron’s covering letter, which he held in his hands.

“Remember, the young man, Corsini, whom I am sending you is everything for your purpose. Only you must keep him in entire ignorance of the part he is to play—at any rate for the present—as he is still very young and might be open to the influence of women. This is a most vital point. He is very intelligent without being suspicious; honourable, trustworthy, and innocent, without being a fool. I think I have taken his measure pretty accurately. He is devoted to his art—he is really a most accomplished musician, as the notices I enclose will prove—and you must get him pushed forward to the premier place, through the good offices of your friends. The Zouroffs are returning for a short space to the Court and he will have the entrée to their house. I fancy, from what I have heard, that the Princess Nada is just a little attracted by him. The important thing, however, is to get him an introduction to La Belle Quéro. She is hand in glove with Prince Zouroff, and from that fact alone to be suspected. They have been in correspondence with each other all the short time he has been in England; but although I have tried my best, I have never been able to get hold of any of their letters.”

Lord Ickfold paused a moment and looked at the Count, who nodded his head.

“Yes, I agree. Corsini may be very useful, especially if he manages to captivate La Belle Quéro. That is, no doubt, what Salmoros has in his mind, amongst several other things.”

The Ambassador resumed his reading. “I regret that I have but a slight clue to what I conceive to be a very bold and desperate conspiracy, in which Zouroff is one of the leading figures. The man has a certain amount of brains and a considerable amount of daring, which makes him the more to be feared. But the information which I send your Excellency in other letters is absolutely reliable. For the present, until we can learn more, use all your influence through Golitzine and others to make sure that the Emperor does not appear in public more often than is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, I fear disaster.”

The two men discussed the situation for some time. There were other documents besides the covering letter which they read very carefully.

Golitzine summed up, as it were. “Our hopes lie in the direction of La Belle Quéro through this young Italian, who, you tell me, is handsome and also a talented artist.”

“You have read in one of those other letters what Salmoros has said of him—that he has created a considerable success in London, and only just wants a little influence to push him into the front rank.”

The Count smiled. “That is easy, my dear friend. The Director of the Imperial Opera is getting a trifle old. We will pension him, and put Corsini in his place.”

“A bold stroke,” said Lord Ickfold admiringly. “There is something to be said for an autocratic government after all. We dare not do anything of the kind in our country; all the Press would be up in arms. With you, a stroke of the pen settles everything.”

The Count’s smile deepened. “And after all, my lord, in the long run, it works as well as in your democratic country. In the end, substantial justice is done, rather more swiftly, by our methods.”

“It seems to me that La Belle Quéro is the crux,” commented the Ambassador. “Suppose she refuses to fall in love with this Corsini, what then?”

“She will not refuse,” replied the Count, speaking with his assured man-of-the-world air. “The relations between her and the Prince have been of long standing, I admit, and she is also a woman who might be attracted by a certain amount of brutality which our excellent friend Boris has in perfect abundance. But this young man is a Latin like herself, an artist like herself. Bah! In twenty-four hours Zouroff will be forgotten. Besides, he is verging on middle age, and this Corsini is a youth. Besides, further, he will be the Director of the Imperial Opera. She will be dependent upon him for small kindnesses, little favours, which I shall instruct him to be lavish of. You understand?”

The morning after the interview between these two exalted personages, the Ambassador’s smart carriage stopped at Nello’s hotel. The slim secretary alighted and sought the young musician, with a message from his chief that he desired to see him immediately at the Embassy.

“You see I have not forgotten you, Signor Corsini,” was Lord Ickfold’s cordial greeting as Nello entered the room. “Salmoros has asked me to use all my influence to advance you in your profession, and I intend to do so. It will give me the greatest pleasure.”

He wrote a brief note and handed it to the young man. “This is a letter to Count Golitzine, the Emperor’s secretary, who wields more influence than anybody in St. Petersburg. You will find him at the Winter Palace. My carriage is waiting to drive you there.”

Events were happening very rapidly, Nello thought. When Salmoros took a thing up, the wheels of action appeared to move very easily. Also, he was beginning to get a firm foothold in the great world of diplomacy and politics. Yesterday he had made the acquaintance of the British Ambassador; this morning he was to interview the Emperor’s private secretary, the most powerful man in St. Petersburg, and consequently in Russia.

The Count received him with more than ordinary graciousness, and questioned him kindly about his London experiences. Lounging by the mantelpiece of the room in which the two men were seated, was a tall, quietly-dressed middle-aged man in civilian clothes. Nello took him to be either an official of the Court or a private friend of the secretary.

At a pause in the conversation, this person, whoever he was, suddenly turned to the young man and carelessly asked in French, “Do you know any one of position in St. Petersburg, Signor Corsini?”

Nello frankly answered that with the exception of Lord Ickfold and the Count, he knew nobody except the Princess Zouroff and her daughter. He explained how he had met them, how he had played at their house in London, and been invited to visit them here.

Nello fancied that a slight frown come over the unknown’s face at mention of the name Zouroff. But his comment was quite simple. “Ah, the Ambassador and the Count between them will soon extend your circle of acquaintance. I understand you come with strong letters of introduction from that splendid old fellow, Salmoros.”

Nello bowed. Evidently this personage, to whom he had not been introduced, knew what was going on. He must certainly be an official of some importance, and appeared to be quite at his ease in Golitzine’s presence.

The Count resumed his conversation with Nello, and the other man quitted his lounging position by the fire-place, and walked down the long room to the deep bay window, from which he pretended to look out. But all the while he was listening intently to the other two.

“And now, Signor Corsini, I have a little surprise for you, and one which I hope will be welcome,” were the Count’s parting words. “The present Director of the Imperial Opera has for some time contemplated retirement. He is growing a little deaf, and finds that the infirmity militates against the proper performance of his duties. He will relinquish his post next week, and I have much pleasure in conferring the appointment upon you. I do so with the sanction of my Imperial Master, to whom I have shown the Baron’s strong letters of recommendation.”

Nello felt the room going round. Could he believe his ears? Only a few hours in St. Petersburg, and promoted to one of the most coveted posts in the musical world! Why, he was as great as Degraux. Truly, the white-haired Salmoros was a wizard, masquerading under the guise of a benevolent financier.

With a great effort he pulled himself together and stammered his thanks. “I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude, your Excellency. I shall do my best to justify your kindness. But I feel it will be no easy task to follow in the footsteps of such an illustrious predecessor.”

As soon as Nello had retired, the man who was lounging in the bay window turned round to Golitzine and shot at him the abrupt question, “Well, what do you think of him, eh? Is that shrewd old fellow Salmoros right? Will he be useful to us?”

The Count replied in respectful tones. “It is rather early to form a judgment, your Majesty; but I must own I am very favourably impressed with the young man. I think he would be as true as steel to those who had befriended him.”

Nello had little suspected that the tall middle-aged person, dressed in civilian attire, whom he had taken for an official of the Court or a personal friend of the Count’s, was the Emperor Alexander himself, the autocrat of all the Russias, supposed to be the strongest man in Europe, who could bend a horse-shoe between his fingers.

“The one thing to do now is to bring this young Italian and La Belle Quéro together.” The Emperor spoke in a musing tone. “That is what the Baron intends. And we know besides that she is suspected by our secret police. Half the men who go to her little parties are in their black books; about Zouroff, we have already pretty convincing evidence. My own belief is that she is one of the prime movers in the affair.”

“So far, of course, nothing has been brought home to her. She entertains these men, I know, but she is a foreigner, a Spaniard, and cannot be well acquainted with our domestic politics,” interjected the Count, who was rather favourably impressed with the beautiful contralto. “Still, in this direction, Corsini may be very useful. He may be able to worm something out of her.”

“Well, Golitzine, we will bring matters to a head as soon as possible, so far as these two people are concerned,” commanded his Majesty. “Let your wife give a concert before the week is out and engage La Belle Quéro and this young Corsini for it.”

The Count bowed. “I will execute your orders, Sire. I agree it would be politic to introduce them under social auspices, rather than strictly business ones. Next week he will be installed at the Opera, and must at once come into touch with her in pursuance of his professional duties.”

“Precisely. That is just what I wish to anticipate. You have, as always, most accurately taken my meaning.”

A gleam of anxiety came into Golitzine’s eyes as he ventured to give a word of warning.

“I trust that your Majesty does not propose to do me the honor of attending this function?”

“Why not? I had rather thought of coming, in order to learn from you how the first act of the comedy was going. What are your objections?”

“You will remember, Sire, the solemn warning Salmoros has given me: that you should show yourself in public as little as possible. I would beseech your Majesty to pay heed to that warning. I cannot bar the suspects from my house. Zouroff, for example, who arrives to-morrow, must receive an invitation.”

The Emperor indulged in an angry gesture. “It has come to something when I have to slink away and hide myself from a traitor like that! But you are right, Count; Salmoros is right. We must bide our time until we can catch them red-handed. Then, Heaven help them! No, I will not attend your wife’s concert, from motives of prudence. But you will let me know early next morning if the scheme is progressing?”

Count Golitzine accompanied his Royal Master to the door; then he returned to his seat to meditate profoundly over what was happening.